


The Agency: Troubles Compounded

by QuickWit



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Mystery, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 63,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickWit/pseuds/QuickWit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill Adama never could resist a good mystery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Little White Card

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked me a very, very long time ago to post this here. Better late than never, right?

**  
**

Bill Adama had had no intention of ‘celebrating’ his retirement. But ever the good officer, even after he was officially released from duty, he had agreed when Yuen Nagala, both admiral and old friend, had suggested it.  
  
They’d met at a bar when Bill returned planetside, a place not far from an airbase just outside of Caprica City and an oft used hang-out for officers. They had a meal and quite a few cold ale’s in a secluded booth as they discussed the glory days for hours.  
  
Towards the end of the night, Nagala had asked a question that Bill had been forcing himself not to think about. “What are you going to do now?  
  
Shaking his head, Bill answered, “I don’t know. Buy myself a small place, probably. Maybe outside the city. Read all the books I’ve always meant to. Maybe see if I can’t find myself a good woman to share a quiet life with.”  
  
“You don’t intend to search for another job?”  
  
“I’ve thought about it,” the former commander told him. “Something in private security might work out.”  
  
Then Nagala gave him the strangest of smiles and said, “A good woman, you say? I know a good woman. I’ve given her your name and vouched that you are the kind of man she is looking for.”  
  
Bill laughed. “I haven’t been set up since I was in my twenties, Nag.”  
  
Smiling, the Admiral informed him, “I never said I gave her your name for a date, Bill.”  
  
“Then what did you give her it for?”  
  
“A job,” was the reply. “One I think you are well suited for. She needs a good man, loyal to the good of the Colonies, willing and able to make difficult decisions. Willing and able to lead.”  
  
Bill frowned and shook his head. “What job is this exactly?”  
  
Nagala spoke cryptically, “She will tell you all about it if you wish to meet her.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
The Admiral looked around carefully and Bill followed his gaze, wondering what the man was searching for. When he turned back to Nagala, he found a small white card in front of him. On it was written **The Agency** , a phone number below.  
  
Bill looked back up at his old friend in confusion. “The Agency?” And was surprised when the Admiral – one of the highest ranking and most respected in the Fleet – shushed him like a teenage girl worried about being overheard sharing gossip in the bathroom.  
  
“Don’t say it so loud, you never know who might be listening. Call the number, use an untraceable number, disposable or pay phones only. Tell them your name, they’ll tell you what to do next.”  
  
“Nag, what the frak is this?” Bill questioned.  
  
The other man shook his head. “I can’t say in detail. But if you’re looking for work, they need someone like you. The woman who runs the operation is a good woman; everything she does is to ensure the Colonies prosper. It is honorable work, Bill. Forget security, you want a job, _this_ is what you’re suited for.”  
  
Then his old friend patted Bill on the hand and said, “Don’t discuss this with anyone else. But think about it.”  
  
Before Bill could say anything else, Nagala was on his feet and, after throwing a few cubits on the table, heading towards the door. Bill watched him go and then turned his attention back to the small white card.  
  
Silently he repeated, _What the frak is this?_

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

While Bill’s irritating pacing would usually be no more than an annoyance, Saul Tigh was hung over and it was quickly becoming a dizzying problem for his pounding head. He took another swig of too-cool coffee and glared at his best friend.  
  
“Will you sit the frak down? You’re gonna’ make me sick.”  
  
Sighing, Bill did as was demanded, dropping himself into the couch across from Saul and saying, “I’m going stir crazy. Frak all to do.”  
  
“Go find yourself a woman and work some of the tension off,” Tigh suggested. “Buy one if you need to.”  
  
Bill shot him a look, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he said, “I never thought I’d miss it this much.”  
  
Saul leaned back into the couch. “At least up there, even when there was nothing going on, we could make ourselves feel as though we were being useful. Down here … we’re _retired_. Old bastards, our best days behind us, good for nothing but pissing off teenagers while we wait to die.”  
  
They sat in silence, contemplating their new lives, until Bill changed the subject. “You find Ellen?”  
  
“Yeah. She’s on Picon. Gonna’ catch the next flight back,” he said and then grinned happily. “We’re gonna’ give it another go. Make it work this time.”  
  
Bill was conspicuously silent about that, but just before Saul could call him on it, he said, “I got a job offer. I think.”  
  
Brow furrowing, the balding man questioned, “You think?”  
  
“Yeah, it was pretty strange. I was having beers with Nag and he gave me this card, but wouldn’t tell me anything about it. Told me not to tell anyone else. He was acting weird about it.”  
  
The furrow on his forehead deepened. “The frak?” When Bill just shrugged, Tigh asked, “What kind of work?”  
  
Adama gave him a brief glare. “I told you, he wouldn’t say anything about it. Just gave me a card with a phone number and told me that the woman who ran it all was a good woman and I should give them a call.”  
  
Saul didn’t know quite what to say, just as confused as Bill. “You call?”  
  
“Not yet. I don’t know if I want another job.”  
  
Tigh started to laugh. “You can barely sit still, Bill. You’ve got nothing to do, you’re going to drive yourself crazy with boredom.”  
  
“I know. I feel like I should be doing something; my entire adult life, I’ve been working and now I’m just …” Adama trailed off, staring out of the window of the three bedroom apartment that Saul had once shared with his wife, and might just do again.  
  
“Not.”  
  
“Yeah,” his old friend sighed. “But I found a place for sale, not too far out of the city. Looks nice. Maybe I could get used to this, kicking back with a book all day. Might finally finish my model, start a new one. Take up gardening.”  
  
Saul snorted. “Gardening?” Then he laughed outright and met Bill’s eyes. “It sounds peachy, Bill. You’ve done your time and now you can relax. So why the hell are you even thinking about calling this woman of Nag’s?”  
  
“I don’t know really. Just the way he was acting when he gave me the card, piqued my curiosity I suppose. That and … he said the job would be perfect for me.”  
  
“So give the lady a call and find out all about it,” Tigh said. “If you like the offer, take it and keep yourself busy. If you don’t, get your green thumb ready and head out of the city.”  
  
Bill nodded thoughtfully in a way that let Saul know he’d helped his old friend somewhat. Slugging back the last dregs of his coffee, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, his good deed for the day done. Hell, that could be it for the _year_.

 


	2. Curiosity

Bill had tried reading, drinking, rigorous exercise. He tried simply taking in the wonders of being on firm ground again. He had even gone on a date with a woman he’d met in a bar – an evening that had turned disastrous when he realized were it not for the differences in appearance, she could have been Ellen Tigh’s twin sister.  
  
Try as he might though, he was still restless and his mind inevitably kept drifting back to the white card that was now crammed behind his veteran’s card in his wallet. Questions flew through his mind: what was the Agency? Why was Yuen Nagala so concerned with even voicing their name? What kind of work would it be that he was suited for it?  
  
Bill’s problem was that he couldn’t resist a good mystery. The best books, in his opinion, were the ones that kept you questioning the whole way through, torturing yourself to try and figure out the answer before the final page.  
  
And this Agency had made him curious. Nag had said they did good work. If so, why had he never heard of them? Probably for the same reason that the Admiral had hushed him like a schoolgirl. Bill could understand that.  
  
He wasn’t a big fan of secrecy, but years in the military had taught him how necessary and effective it could be. Maybe they could only do such good work so long as they remained anonymous.  
  
It baffled him and he was practically twitching to find out the answers. But did he really want to keep working? The answer was an easy one; yes, he did. He’d worked his entire life, he simply wouldn’t know what to do with all the free time that retirement provided and it would drive him mad.  
  
 _Gardening? Are you out of your mind?_  
  
He questioned himself for a whole week. To call, or to let it go and never know? Considering that he’d bought himself a disposable portable phone the day after the dinner with Nagala, he’d probably always known somewhere in his turning mind that he was going to call.  
  
Eight days after he’d come into possession of the tempting little card, he laid it on the dining table in his rented furnished apartment and punched numbers into the phone. After hesitating a full minute at least, he finally pressed send.  
  
A male voice answered after just two rings, surprising Bill. Whoever it was did not say hello, did not announce who he’d called, simply asked, “Name?”  
  
“Bill Adama,” he responded after clearing his throat.  
  
A minute silence and then, “Stand by for a return call.”  
  
Then whoever it was abruptly hung up, leaving Bill staring at the phone in confusion and shock. What the hell? A return call from whom? Already regretting his choice, but still beside himself with wondering about it all, Bill placed the phone on the table and stared at it for a while.  
  
Then he paced. Then he tried to read and when he could barely get through a paragraph, he paced some more. His impatient stare at the phone had, over the time that passed, turned into a glare.  
  
And when it rang, even with almost a half hour of waiting, Bill was unprepared. He simply looked at it in shock for three rings, then dove across the room and picked it up.  
  
“Adama,” he answered gruffly, pissed about how long he’d been kept.  
  
It was a woman’s voice who spoke to him, her voice almost lyrical when she said, “I’ve been waiting for your call, Mister Adama.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting for yours too. A whole frakking half hour.”  
  
She had the nerve to laugh at his response. “I’m terribly sorry for the delay.”  
  
He demanded, “Mind telling me who the hell I’m talking to?”  
  
“Soon, Mister Adama.” Insufferable woman was still amused. “First, where are you calling from?”  
  
“I bought a disposable phone,” he stated.  
  
“Good. Now are you serious about this call, or simply unable to stave off your curiosity?”  
  
Bill hesitated, thought about his answer. He wasn’t going to deny being unbelievably curious. He was and that was a good part of the reason he’d called. But he really did want to inquire about the job. Like Saul had advised, if he thought it would be good work for him, he’d take it.  
  
He told her, “I’m serious.”  
  
“Your apartment is in the Seacade district, isn’t it?”  
  
 _How the hell does she know that?_ he wondered, resisting the urge to peek out the window and look up and down the street for suspicious vehicles. A touch of paranoia making him a little hesitant, he answered, “Yeah.”  
  
“There’s a lovely little bookstore not far from you, I believe, Readers Haven, about a block - - “  
  
He cut her off. “I know where it is.”  
  
“I’ll be there within twenty minutes. I’d like to meet you, so if you’re seriously interested, don’t keep me waiting too long. Oh, and Mister Adama? I have a weakness for mysteries.”  
  
And for the second time in less than an hour, someone hung up on him. _You and me both, lady,_ he thought of her last comment, staring at the phone in his hand, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.  
  
Who were these mysterious frakkers? He pondered answers to the questions in his mind as he snatched his jacket from the coat rack and strode from his apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
The first thing Bill had done when he’d hit shore again and found a place to rent was scope out the surrounding neighborhood. He’d found himself a bar, a diner that made decent breakfasts, and a cozy little bookstore that he’d spent hours browsing through that first day.  
  
Reader’s Haven was easily missed if you didn’t have a nose for books. Barely a notch of a door crammed between dozens of other, far more eye-catching shops, Bill had almost walked straight past it when something had made him stop.  
  
He’d been immensely pleased. It was cramped, books were stashed from ceiling to floor, many stacked up beside shelves in a tight little maze of paperbacks and pages and hard covers. His first visit alone had set him back quite a few cubits and even then he’d only stopped browsing because he had just enough sense about him to remember he had to carry them all back to his apartment.  
  
That day had been helpful for this one though, since when he entered, he was able to easily head for the general area that housed mystery novels. If he hadn’t been so curious about the mystery he was living, it would have been a much longer trip – even with only periphery glances, he’d already seen four or five books he’d have to remember to take a closer look at next time he visited.  
  
She was crouched down between the shelves, a small stack at her feet and an old novel in her hand. He knew it was the woman he’d been speaking to, because there was no one else in this particular section and the twenty minutes had passed. Somehow, from their brief telephone conversation, he knew she would not be late.  
  
Stepping closer, he was about to clear his throat to announce his presence when, without even looking up at him (and how she could see him with all that hair covering her face, he had no idea) she welcomed, “Good afternoon, Mister Adama.”  
  
“Good afternoon.”  
  
Another moment, and then finally she looked up at him, pushing black-framed glasses higher up on her nose and adding the book in her hand to the pile at her feet, which she picked up as she rose.  
  
The first thing he took note of was that she was just about as tall as him. The second was the very casual clothing she wore, jeans and a sweater, which didn’t seem very appropriate for a business meeting. Then he remembered he himself was in little more than that as he’d been so impatient to find out what this was all about that he hadn’t bothered to dress up – so much for first impressions.  
  
Third, he took in her nice, warm smile, which was immediately offset by the calculations he could see in the green eyes that were looking at him intently from behind her glasses. She was summing him up and unconsciously he straightened himself.  
  
Holding out her hand, she said, “It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Laura Roslin.”  
  
She had soft hands, but a firm grip. “Bill Adama.”  
  
“I know. And I’m sure you’re just bursting with questions. Why don’t you let me buy you a cup of coffee?”

 


	3. Madame Director

**  
**

He didn’t know what – or who, really – he’d been expecting when he’d finally made the call, but the rather attractive woman with sharp eyes sitting across from him, sipping coffee and studying him almost to a point that was uncomfortable, had not been in his head.  
  
She was smiling at him pleasantly when she placed her cup back on the table between them and spoke, “Yuen Nagala speaks highly of you, Mister Adama.”  
  
Bill eyed her for a moment, covering it with a long sip of his own coffee and then replied, “He speaks highly of the woman who runs this … organization. Would that be you?”  
  
“Yes. I’m the Director of the Agency.”  
  
His eyebrows rose and he glanced around, then frowned at her. “You’re saying it out loud. Nag gave me the impression that that wasn’t done.”  
  
Still smiling, she told him, “I’ve found that sometimes the more you try to avoid letting others overhear something, the more they’re going to notice. I do try to keep mention of it out of public places, though, just in case someone is listening for it. But I don’t think we have any eavesdroppers here.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“It’s a relatively random location. I’ve never been here before, you’re not yet on the radar of any interested parties. And since your call was unexpected, only one other person knows where we are and I trust him implicitly.”  
  
Nodding, Bill finally asked the question that had been burning in his chest for a week. “What kind of job are you offering me?”  
  
An impish little smile, then, “I’m not offering you anything yet, Mister Adama. I like to actually meet a person before I go giving them jobs, no matter how highly they’ve been recommended.”  
  
“Then what kind of position is available, that I may be interested in?”  
  
“You mentioned to Yuen that you may look into private security work?” Bill nodded in reply, she went on, “Consider it that then, but on a larger scale.”  
  
He almost growled at her. “More cryptic crap. Who are you people?”  
  
She threw a subtle glance around their surroundings. “Relatively secure or not, this is neither the time nor the place, Mister Adama. I will explain more eventually.”  
  
“What was the point of meeting me here, if you weren’t even going to explain the basics of the job? Or the company?”  
  
Her knowing smile was really beginning to drive him crazy, and certainly not in the good way. “I consider myself a good judge of character, Mister Adama. I wanted to meet you for myself before I welcomed you any further into my business.”  
  
He asked, “And are you satisfied?”  
  
A long pause, more intense and uncomfortable scrutiny, then, “Quite.”  
  
Bill’s brow furrowed, his eyes meeting hers. “Why?”  
  
Roslin didn’t answer right away. Instead she instructed, “The phone you contacted me on, destroy it.”  
  
She finished her cup, placed it on the table, pulled some cash from her pocket and dropped it next to the sugar. Then she picked up the bag of books she’d purchased at Readers Haven and rounded the table, until she was beside him  
  
Lightly, she touched his hand. "Why do I think you're the kind of man I'm looking for?" Again, that little smile of hers, knowing and mischief in her eyes, then she tapped her nose and told him, "Trade secret, Mister Adama. We’ll be in touch.”  
  
Hiseyes followed her out of the coffee shop, through the window down the street until he couldn’t see her anymore. She left him wondering, even more than he had before he’d met the woman, just what exactly he was trying to get himself into.

  
~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Two days later, the doorbell roused Bill from a rather pleasant nap he’d been taking. Grousing the whole way and rubbing sleep from his eyes, he opened it to find a delivery man, who passed over a parcel and left.  
  
Frowning, Bill studied the rectangular package he held, his name and address staring back at him. He took it to the dining room table and peeled off the paper, his eyes widening at the box that greeted him.  
  
Who the hell would be sending him a bottle of Ambrosia Spice? The stuff was almost twenty cubits a bottle.  
  
He opened the box, pulled out the bottle and noticed the tag around its neck. He had to spend the next two minutes hunting for his glasses before he could read the writing on it.  
  
 _‘Bill,_  
  
 _The amusement park on the pier of Caprica beach. Stand by the railing near the pickled hag vendor. Meet you there within two hours. If you don’t show, I’ll assume you’ve changed your mind._  
  
 _Laura.’_  
  
Subtle. He admired her methods, but he was pretty pissed about being _summoned_. But would he change his mind? No, he was too entrenched in the intrigue of it now.  
  
With a sigh, Bill hid the bottle of Spice. It wouldn’t do for Saul, or Gods help them all, Ellen to find it if they were visiting. It was too good to waste on either of them, unless it was a very special occasion. They’d imbibe it exactly the same as they drank cheap swill: quickly and in copious amounts.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
The amusement park was operating, but there were very few visitors, Bill noted as he made his way through it. Most people were still at work, children at school; that coupled with the cool and ever-declining temperature had the place mostly abandoned by anyone not running stalls and rides.  
  
He didn’t know where the pickled hag vendor was, but found the railing easily enough and simply followed it until he came across what he was looking for. Then he settled against the railing to wait for Director Roslin.  
  
With that mindset, he was surprised when a man leaned their elbows on the railing close beside him within fifteen minutes of his arrival. Even more so when he looked up and found himself staring at his own son.  
  
“Lee?” Bill questioned, as a cool wind blew across his face. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I was instructed to meet you here,” the younger Adama answered tersely, obviously unpleased with the arrangement.  
  
Bill was in shock. “You were …? You’re with this … Agency?”  
  
“Not so loud,” Lee whispered angrily, gifting his father with a brief glare. “Were you followed?”  
  
“Followed?”  
  
Lee sucked in a deep breath and said, “Yes, did you see anybody following you on your way here?”  
  
Bill shook his head. “Not that I noticed, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”  
  
Sighing, his son told him, “We’ll have to chance it then. From now on, keep your eye out for anyone or anything suspicious.” Then he pushed off the railing and said, “Let’s go,” and started walking away.  
  
Oddly, the boy stopped at the vendor and got a cup of pickled hags before leading him through the amusement park. Bill had to hurry to keep up with the swift pace his son was keeping.  
  
“Maybe you can fill me in on all of this,” he said as they walked, passing a stall where a few teenagers, probably skipping out on school, took shots at hitting tin heads of Cylon centurions with a rubber ball. “I’ve spoken to two people about it and they’ve both been far too cryptic for my liking. I’d like to know a few things.”  
  
Lee’s tone refused to soften. “My orders were to bring you in. It’s not my place to tell you anything.”  
  
Bill sighed. Obviously, Lee was still angry with him. They hadn’t spoken since the funeral of his younger son, Zak. To say they’d argued would be an understatement. Lee had blown up at him like a star going nova, laying blame and grief over his brother right at his father’s feet.  
  
The words still cut him when he recalled them.  
  
A few weeks after the fight, Bill had heard from a friend that worked in Fleet Personnel that Lee had handed in his resignation and mustered out of the military. Bill had tried for a long time to get in touch with Lee, find out why he would throw away such a promising career, but all his calls had gone unanswered.  
  
Finally he’d been able to get in touch with his ex-wife, who’d told him that Lee’s reasons were his own and if he wanted to share them with his father then he would. She’d been cold as she’d spoken, but sensing Bill’s worry, she’d warmed enough to inform him that Lee was working in a bar in Caprica City, that he was enjoying his new job and was happy.  
  
Bill had been disappointed. Not because his son was happy, but that he’d walked away from so much potential as a great officer to serve ambrosia and beer to drunks somewhere in the city. It seemed like such a waste.  
  
But apparently, Lee wasn’t just pouring drinks.  
  
“Is this what you’ve been doing since you resigned your commission?” the older Adama questioned as they passed the gate of, strangely enough, a house of mirrors that had a ‘Closed for Maintenance’ sign hanging on the entrance.  
  
Lee’s voice remained frosty. “Yes,” was all he offered. Then he nodded briefly to the maintenance worker by the entrance to the house, who was eyeing them both carefully.  
  
The guy nodded back, subtly. Not just a maintenance worker, then, Bill surmised, hurrying to keep up with Lee as they walked into a maze of reflections.  
  
Bill was completely turned around by the dozen or so images of Lee and himself on the walls, but his son seemed to know where he was going as he wound a track through the halls.  
  
He stopped in front of a particular mirror and Bill almost pulled him away in an instinctive reaction when a green beam ran down the mirror, scanning Lee’s reflection. Then he almost gaped like a fish when the mirror slid aside, revealing a small room.  
  
Lee strode in and though Bill was wary, he kept following. The mirror closed again once they were inside and then, very clearly, Lee stated his own name. A small ting was heard and they were moving; it was an elevator and from the feel of it, they were descending.  
  
“Where are we going? What is this?” Bill questioned.  
  
“This is one of the entrances into our base of operations,” Lee told him, finally explaining _something._  
  
Bill shook his head. “Who the frak _are_ you people?”  
  
His son ignored him. They stopped moving and the door opened into a darkened tunnel. It was made of old brick, the roof curving into an arch. Somewhere far off, water could be heard dripping.  
  
Suddenly, Bill knew where they were. “The Caprica City catacombs,” he whispered, still following Lee as they started to move through the tunnel.  
  
They’d been built as emergency hideouts almost one hundred years ago during the Virgon Raids, back before the Colonies unified, when Virgon had declared war with Caprica.  
  
A good portion of the city would evacuate into the labyrinth of tunnels and sturdy halls, cram themselves in with hundreds of thousands of others at the sound of a siren that warned of incoming Virgon ships and the likely bombardment to follow.  
  
There was a few hundred miles of tunnels – bodies of the dead who died during the raids reportedly buried in the walls when the damage was repaired – and they hadn’t been used since the Cylon war. To Bill’s knowledge, to show the people that they were truly safe, the government had ordered all entrances forever sealed.  
  
“Weren’t these closed off years ago?” he asked his son.  
  
Lee barely nodded, taking a sharp left, one of many in a series of turns that was leaving Bill baffled. “Which makes them perfect for our use. Nobody can get down here by any of the old entrances. You have to know what to look for and be able to pass security to get in now. And we have quick, undetectable access to the entire city.”  
  
They slipped into another off-shoot tunnel and Bill was surprised when they reached a dead end. For a moment, he worried that Lee too had gotten confused and they were now lost in the labyrinth.  
  
His son however showed no signs of distress or confusion. He made his way to the solid brick wall in front of them, then pulled off one of the bricks – which wasn’t a brick at all, Bill realized, but a thin mock-up that covered a glowing control panel.  
  
Lee punched in a series of numbers, replaced the cover and waited. A brief moment later, the entire wall swung aside, the familiar grind of a hatch opening ringing through the empty halls.  
  
With that the entire scene changed. Bill found it utterly surreal and wondered if perhaps he weren’t simply in the midst of a very strange dream.  
  
Bright light was the first thing he noticed and after the darkness of the catacombs, it took his eyes a bit to adjust. Then he took in the rest of what was in front of him, which wasn’t much, to be honest, but so odd to think that it was right there, under Caprica City, and the rest of the world was oblivious to it.  
  
A small, dull beige walled room, with a single hall leading off from it. Inside the room he was cautiously entering, was nothing but a desk with computer monitors on it and a young man, who Bill assumed had opened the hatch, giving Lee a respectful nod.  
  
“Welcome back, sir,” he greeted rather warmly and then his eyes flicked to Bill. “Commander Adama, sir.”  
  
Bill first took in the gun on the man’s hip, and then his face, recollection tickling his id. “Do I know you?” he asked.  
  
The young man smiled and nodded. “I served under you as a marine on _Galactica_ , two years ago, Commander.” Then he held out his hand, “Marcus Venner.”  
  
Taking the hand and while not quite remembering the man on any personal level, knowing he recognized the face and name, Bill returned the smile. “Of course.”  
  
Lee was writing both their names on a clipboard that sat on the desk and as soon as he was done, he turned back to his father. “We need to keep moving. The Director’s waiting for you.”  
  
Bill nodded to the former marine and then followed Lee down the hall. They walked about twenty meters before they reached the first intersection, a short hall to the left leading into what Bill could see was a large and well-equipped gym. He took a good look, even though Lee was leaving little time for sight-seeing.  
  
Next was a closed and locked (from the flashing security panel on the wall beside it) door to the left, and two doors to the right, side by side, one open. Inside Bill saw a hospital-like cafeteria, only much smaller, with a kitchen and everything in the back.  
  
“What’s behind the closed doors?” he asked his son.  
  
Lee pointed to the locked one. “Armory.” Then to the one beside the galley, saying, “Barracks.”  
  
They kept walking, coming to a cross section some way down, with two long hallways branching off the main corridor. Before Bill could ask, Lee told him, “Two other entry points. The cells and interrogation rooms are down that one as well,” pointing left. “And storage rooms, the lab and Life Station down that way,” to the right.  
  
Cells? Interrogation rooms? A locked armory? What the hell did these people do? What did his son do? After wondering of little else for quite a while now, he was finally here, inside the Agency, and all he was getting was more questions than those that were being answered.  
  
It was only a few more meters before they entered a large open room, filled with cubicles and desks, maybe two dozen of them. There were filing cabinets along the wall, computers on desks and a phone ringing somewhere. Everything one would expect to see in a regular office. Even people, about eight of them, all in the midst of various activities.  
  
Like the trained soldier he was, Bill immediately took note of all exit points. An open door soon after he’d entered led into what he guessed to be a briefing room, with its rows of chairs and podium at the front.  
  
Another, he saw when he glanced in, was filled with computers and all sorts of technical equipment. They passed a closed (locked too, he noted) door that had ‘Security Center’ written on the front. Down the end was another closed door and to the far left, another hallway.  
  
They stopped in the center of the room, by a cubicle and Lee told him, sounding like the words were being forced out against his will, “This is my desk.”  
  
Bill looked. A computer, a calendar. Notes stuck all over the place. His viper wings were pinned to the wall and there was a photograph that almost made Bill weep; his two boys, many, many years ago, with their mother, all three of them smiling brightly.  
  
Lee turned and met his eyes and stated, quite succinctly, “Welcome to the Agency, Dad.”

 


	4. Answers At Last

Bill followed Lee out of the main office and into a foyer of sorts. With a wry smile, he noted two more closed doors, one to the left, one directly ahead. With all the dradis ghost bullshit he’d already seen, he imagined closed doors were soon to become a fixture in his life.  
  
There was a desk outside each, but only one was occupied. The young man – he couldn’t be more than twenty-five – sitting at the far end desk looked up as they entered and gave them a warm smile.  
  
“She free to see us, Billy?” Lee asked, walking over to the boy’s desk.  
  
Billy picked up a phone, hit a button, paused a moment and then said, “Madame Director.” A beat. “Apollo is here with Mister Adama, ma’am.” He waited a few seconds, listening, and then covered the mouthpiece with his hand, asking, “Did you get the pickled hags?”  
  
Lee smiled – the first Bill had seen all day, the first Bill had seen in a few years and though it was small and accompanied by an eye roll, the father was glad at its appearance.  
  
His son held up the bag in his hand and Billy spoke into the phone again. “Yes, ma’am, he’s got them.” Then he hung up the phone and smiled. “You can go in.”  
  
They entered the Director’s office, hearing from somewhere beyond an open door to his right Roslin’s voice calling, “Just a minute.”  
  
Bill stared around in wonder. It was warmer than the dull and drab he’d seen thus far, darker colors on the walls, even a painting (a very expensive piece by a well known artist, if he weren’t mistaken), the furniture far from what he’d seen outside.   
  
Soft leather couches surrounded a coffee table in one corner, the entire left wall full of books, a large wooden desk. What had him gaping though, was the glass panel behind the desk. About a meter high and three across, the glass opened directly onto the endless sea.   
  
He couldn’t believe it, they weren’t just under the city, this part of the facility had to, at least partially, be under the _ocean._ The view out the window was beautiful. The water, sunlight filtering through it, was bluish-green and he swore that not far off in the distance he could see an entire school of fish.  
  
“Beats the hell out of a fish tank, don’t you think?” the woman’s voice asked, close now, almost right in his ear.   
  
He glanced at her, then back at the window. “Sure does,” he stated, responding to her comment.  
  
When he turned back to her, he was surprised at how different her style of clothing made her look. Her jeans and sweater had been warm and approachable, but the black, finely tailored power suit she was wearing now made her look rather severe.   
  
Something instinctive inside him told him that this was her flight suit, in a way. This was what she wore to do battle in. And from the now familiar calculating look in her stare as she watched him take her in, he seriously hoped he wasn’t today’s opponent.   
  
“I finally get some answers today then?” he asked, trying to pass it off lightly, even if he was still a bit miffed (and way more excited to end the intrigue than he’d ever admit to).  
  
Roslin kept smiling. “Yes, you do. I’ll be happy to answer all of your questions soon. First though,” she turned to Lee and held out her hand, “my pickled hags, please.”  
  
Handing over the paper bag with the cup of hags inside, he smiled at her, a warmer smile than Bill had ever seen him give anyone; certainly not himself, not even his mother.   
  
As she took them he told her, “They’re no good for you, you know.”  
  
She opened the bag happily, popped one of the heavily battered, deep fried pieces of pickled pig’s innards into her mouth, chewed it with a look of near-bliss, and grinned at Lee. “That may be, Agent Apollo, but they put me in a good mood and that’s good for you.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am, it is.”  
  
“Well, Mister Adama, shall we get started?” she said, and then spoke to Lee, “You’re welcome to stay for this.”  
  
He glanced at his father and all traces of anything pleasant fled from his face. His back straightened and his voice was hard when he stated, “I’ve made my opinion known on the topic.”  
  
Roslin nodded, still smiling. “Yes, you have. Repeatedly.” Then she patted him on the shoulder. “Go make yourself useful elsewhere then.”  
  
Lee nodded, gave his father the briefest of looks, and left the room. Bill watched him go before turning back to Roslin who was making her way to the couches. When she sat down, she beckoned him over and he sat across from her.  
  
She placed her hags on the coffee table, then leant back and met his eyes. A moment of silence as they stared across the table, both curious about the other.   
  
Then she asked, “You’ve recently retired from the Fleet?”  
  
Though she posed it as a question, Bill was sure she already knew the answer. He told her nonetheless, “Yes. I finished up almost two months ago.”  
  
“So why aren’t you enjoying your retirement? Pursuing hobbies and sleeping in and all that stuff.”  
  
“I like to keep busy.”  
  
Roslin smiled. “Then this may be the position for you.”  
  
“If I may be given an answer this time, what position would that be? In fact, why don’t we start with what the hell this Agency of yours is and go from there?”  
  
Before she could say anything, there was a knock on the door and she called out an invitation. Bill turned to see a man walk in, older than even he was, tall and lean, with dark grey hair cropped close to his heavily wrinkled face. The suit he wore was impeccably pressed, his shoes shone in the lights of the office and his bearing was most definitely military.  
  
Bill stood to shake his hand as Roslin introduced them, “This is John Borders, my current tactical chief. John, this is Bill Adama.”  
  
His eyes were appraising, his grip firm. Bill squeezed back just as hard and that seemed to satisfy the man. He didn’t smile, but the tension around his mouth lessoned somewhat.   
  
“Nice to meet you, Commander Adama,” he said quietly in a carefully controlled tone.   
  
“Likewise,” Bill responded as they sat. “But as I just mentioned to the Director, I’m no longer in the Fleet, so the title is dated.”  
  
“It makes little difference to John,” Laura commented with a smile towards the older man. Again, he didn’t smile back, but there was just the barest touch of warmth in his eyes as he glanced at her, a look that might be like one a stern father would give his particularly mischievous daughter.  
  
She continued, “He was a non-commissioned officer for most of his life. He even still calls Lee lieutenant.”  Then she straightened somewhat and said, “Now, back to business. You want to know what the Agency is.”  
  
“Not an easy question to answer, Commander Adama,” Borders stated. “We don’t exactly have a standard answer readily available.” Then he glanced at Roslin again. “This would have been much easier if we’d just promoted from within.”  
  
“So you’ve said.” Her eyes met Bill’s. “We’re an independent organization of highly trained agents, who use the resources at our disposal to protect the Twelve Colonies.”  
  
“That’s what the Fleet is for,” he told her.  
  
The smile she gave him was patronizing and it grated on his nerves. “Of course. The Fleet is wonderful during a time of war, but they’re little help when it comes to preventing one or dealing with internal threats.”  
  
He frowned. “You prevent wars?”  
  
Borders said, “We try.”  
  
“And obviously we’ve succeeded thus far,” Roslin parried, shooting her tactical chief a look. “Your battlestar’s may be capable against a Cylon basestar, Mister Adama, but what about singular agents? What about terrorists?”  
  
Bill shook his head. “Singular agents? What the hell does that mean? The Cylon’s don’t attack like that.” Then he waved his hand. “That’s irrelevant anyway. The Cylon’s are gone. Terrorists, I can get.”  
  
“You deeming it irrelevant doesn’t necessarily make it so,” she told him. “There are things I will show you, if you do join us, that will be most relevant, if hard to grasp.”  
  
He glared at her and asked, “Are you trying to tell me the Cylon’s aren’t actually gone?” When she didn’t answer, he turned his gaze to Borders, hoping his former rank might be enough to force the man into responding.   
  
It wasn’t. Borders said instead, “We’ve prevented more internal attacks than you can imagine, are working on stopping one right now, actually. You’ll be briefed on that if you take the position offered.”   
  
Before he could ask about it, Roslin spoke again, “We work independently of the Fleet and the Colonial government, so we’re free to keep our eye on problems there, too.”  
  
“Wait,” he held up a hand to stop her, information and questions practically overloading his brain. “Independent of the Fleet and the Government? This isn’t sanctioned?”  
  
She made a humming noise in the back of her throat and then answered, “We have support from highly placed persons in both.”  
  
“The President? The Admiralty?”  
  
“A few admirals, yes. Yuen is just one. The President? No. We make it a point to keep the leader of the civilian government unaware of our presence. Unless they already knew before they were elected, we don’t tell them.”  
  
Confused, and worried about what he’d stumbled into, Bill asked, “Why?”  
  
“A precaution. Sometimes the greatest dangers to a people are their elected officials,” she explained.  
  
Bill stood up, pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “You’re a vigilante group.”  
  
She tensed at the term. “We most certainly are not.”  
  
“You work on your own, you take orders from no government.”  
  
“We save lives, Mister Adama,” she told him with conviction. “We ensure the safety of the Colonies, and our way of life. We preserve our cultures and we stop dangerous people from harming anyone. And even if we don’t take orders from the government, higher officials are kept informed. The Secretary of Defense, for example.”  
  
He was silent for a long moment, trying to think it all over. “I trust Nagala’s judgment, Lee’s too, but this just seems … I can’t even explain it. It doesn’t feel right. Secret organizations who decide independently what’s best for the people?”  
  
“Which is why our people are the kind you’d trust with those kinds of decisions,” Borders told him. “The people who work for us are inherently good men and women, Commander Adama. They strive for what’s best for the Colonies.”  
  
Roslin continued the argument, “We don’t suppress views we don’t agree with; we don’t kill people just because they threaten the way we think. Our primary goal is the continued safety of the people of the Twelve Colonies.”  
  
With a sigh, Bill sat back down. “That, I can get behind. But there are already legitimate groups in place for that kind of thing. War and riots; the Fleet. Terrorist and madmen; that’s what local police forces are for. Preserving our culture, the Interior Department. Why are you needed when they’re around?”  
  
 She was amused again. “Simple: paranoia. The people who created this organization, quite some time ago now, didn’t trust the Fleet, the government, or local forces to handle some things. If we think it’s in their capacity, we leave it to them. But some things are out of their reach and that’s when we step in.”  
  
“And who makes that decision, to step in?”  
  
“I do,” she told him. “And you will, if you take the job.”  
  
He looked up at her in surprise. “I will?” She nodded. “What exactly are you offering me here?”  
  
It was Borders that told him, “My position. My wife is unwell and getting worse every day. I’d like to retire as soon as possible.” Even as he spoke of his sick spouse, the man’s tone was completely controlled, no emotion bleeding through his voice.  
  
“Tactical Chief is the official title. It would mostly consist of the oversight of our field agents,” Roslin explained. “We thought about filling the position from within our own ranks, but our top choice would be Lee and to be honest, he needs more field experience. I spoke with my old friend, Yuen Nagala, and your name came up.”  
  
Bill sighed, shook his head again. “This is a lot to take in. I need to know more. I need to think.”  
  
“More information you can have,” Borders said. “There’s a stack of boxes in my office at the moment, procedural manuals, mission reports, personnel files; enough to give you a good feel for who we are and what we do.”  
  
“If you aren’t interested, you can walk away now,” Roslin told him sincerely, and he pushed away the irrational feeling that a sniper would take him out the moment he was out of the catacombs.  
  
“You don’t want me to sign some kind of confidentiality agreement or something?”  
  
“That won’t be necessary.”   
  
Maybe the sniper worry wasn’t all that irrational. _We’re offering you a chance here, if you don’t want it, leave. But if you speak of this to anyone …_ The threat was implied in her tone of voice.  
  
He thought. Met her eyes and tried to read her, to judge what kind of a person she was. He couldn’t, but Nagala’s words were in his ears: _She’s a good woman, everything she does is to ensure the Colonies prosper._  
  
Nagala trusted her. Lee obviously liked and respected her. That was maybe the kicker. Lee was so righteous, so idealistic. Even in the years since he’d seen him that couldn’t have changed, it was who he’d always been at the core. If he was willing to follow this woman and work for this organization, they had to be on the right path.  
  
“Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

 


	5. Light Reading

John Borders’ office turned out to be the one next to Roslin’s, the second of the closed doors he’d seen. The Chief himself showed him in, told him to make himself comfortable, and left. 

The older man had said there was a stack of boxes in there. There were four stacks. Bill almost groaned aloud. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to put it off a moment more, he took in his surroundings. It was basically empty, except for the furniture. It seemed Borders had already cleared out all personal touches. Then, thinking of the stand-offish man he’d just met, Bill thought maybe there’d been no personal touches to start with.

The office wasn’t as big as Roslin’s, but still much larger than any previous office he’d had throughout his career as an officer. He first noticed the glass panel on the right hand wall, glad to see it. If he did take the job, and that was a big if at the current time, he would enjoy the view of the water. The wall size bookshelf was also a seller, along with the large desk and comfortable seating. 

The door to the far left behind the desk caught his eye and he moved to inspect it. He was surprised to find a large living area, currently empty, complete with bedroom, bathroom and kitchen.

After exploring for a long while, procrastinating if he were honest, he eyed the boxes wearily, reached for the closest one and carried it to the couch. It was stuffed with paper files and with a heavy sigh, he pulled out the top one.

Three hours and four boxes later, Bill’s opinion of the Agency had skewed somewhat. From all he’d seen, they were doing good work. He still didn’t like that they didn’t receive instructions from any higher powers, but if he took the job, he’d be one of the two that could make sure they didn’t veer off track.

He’d read through their procedure manuals; he’d found their approaches sensible and efficient. They were organized, as well trained as any military unit he’d ever seen, and everything in the manuals was from a practical point of view.

The only thing that bothered him while skimming through those was the blatant disregard for the law. He’d seen the phrase when such measures are called for a few more times than he would have liked. 

The manuals clearly instructed agents that they could, albeit discretely, break into homes and businesses, carry unlicensed weapons, even take prisoners for questioning on gut-instinct alone when such measures are called for.

He’d also read many, many mission reports. He read about an atheist doctor that had been working on a biological weapon to drop on Geminon – he’d been detained, declared legally insane and locked away in a maximum security institution. All research and samples of the weapon had been collected and destroyed by the Agency.

There were almost a dozen reports on a sect calling themselves Disconnection who were violently against the Unification Treaty that had brought the Colonies together. The Agency had thwarted almost five high-level attacks by the group and captured several of the big players. They were still working on wiping out the group completely.

A terrorist attack which would have killed hundreds, if not thousands, of families enjoying Mars Day celebrations was stopped. 

A high profile politician who was blackmailing others into passing a law that would put Sagittarons on a level somewhere beneath cattle had been ‘convinced’ it was time for him to retire and move to an isolated island on Aquaria. 

And many other such cases. It was good work, Bill had to give them that. 

He’d been surprised to read that there were almost two hundred active employees of the Agency. Caprica had thirty field agents alone, the rest scattered across the Colonies, some in sensitive positions – such as the young woman playing the part of a trusted aide in the President’s office. To his disgust he saw there were several who wore Fleet uniforms loyal to the Agency as well.

There were field medics, a high number of doctors and nurses, computer technicians, engineers, scientists, security personnel. Not that much different from the Fleet, really. Someone to fill every position, carry out every duty. 

Well organized, efficient and superbly effective. They were discreet and good at what they did. And it seemed to him that in most situations he’d read about, he agreed with what they were doing. 

His eyes tired and his body beginning to cramp, Bill stood up and stretched out, then exited the office. The Directors assistant still sat at his desk, and Bill asked him, “Billy, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, sir,” the aide smiled. “Billy Keikeya.”

Bill returned the smile. “Do you think the Director would mind if I went for a walk about the facility? I need a break from those reports.”

“I doubt she’d mind, sir. Though she does want to speak to you before you return to the surface.”

“I’ve no intention of leaving before I talk to her,” Bill assured him and then left the kids realm, heading into the main office. There were only three agents left in there and none of them paid him any mind as he wandered through. 

He checked out the briefing room, managed to get turned around and somehow find himself in Life Station, able to peer through the glass across the hall from it into a well equipped laboratory. A nurse was kind enough to point him back to the main hallway. 

He found Lee in the galley, looking to be freshly out of the shower, eating a bowl of something or other as he read over a report. Bill sat down across from him and his son lifted his head, tensed slightly.

“Feel free to help yourself,” Lee told him, trying to be cordial. “There’s always fresh coffee and something to snack on.”

Bill shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.” Then asked what he’d been wondering for hours. “Why’d you join the Agency?”

Lee looked up at him again, then shook his own head, putting his spoon in his bowl and pushing it away. “Look, you’re either going to take the job or you’re not. Take your time, whatever, but make up your mind and leave me out of your thought process.”

Raising his hands in a gesture meant to calm, Bill said, “I’m just asking, son. I’m curious. Do you think I should take the job?”

Lee sighed. “Do I think you should or do I want you to? I’ll be honest, I’m against the appointment. Only because … working with you … as my supervisor, no less. I've made a place for myself here, with no influence from being William Adama's son. And I came here specifically because ...

"It’s been three years, Dad and I still …” he met Bill’s eyes in an intense stare, then abruptly dropped them and returned to the original question. “Should you take the job? That’s entirely up to you.”

Also trying to move past the horrible things between them – not today, later, when they’re more ready for it – Bill told him, “When Roslin originally laid it all out for me, I was wary. No jurisdiction, no overseer, complete and total secrecy? It’s a little worrying.”

Finally, Lee seemed to soften, just a touch. He nodded. “It is, to start with. Until you realize that these are the best of the best, great people and we’re all working to do good by the Colonies and its citizens.”

“You really believe in the whole thing?”

“Yes, I do,” Lee said firmly. “I believe in the people. I believe in our mission. I believe in Laura Roslin; she won’t lead us astray.”

Bill commented, “You seem to trust her a lot.”

Again, Lee spoke firmly. “I do. With my life, because I know she’ll never put it at risk unless it’s for something important.” Toying with the spoon in the bowl, he went on to tell Bill, “You want to know why I resigned my commission and signed up here? She’s why. She saw potential in me and she convinced me that I would be more use here than I am in a viper and she was right.

“We’re not at war at the moment; my job in the Fleet was all CAP and training exercises. I was a good pilot, but I feel like I’m useful here. We’re saving lives every day, we’re averting disaster every day. We’re not sitting around in space waiting for something to blow up in our faces. We’re actively seeking the bomb and dismantling it.”

Bill absorbed it all, then questioned, “How’d you meet her?”

“You know Admiral Cain?” Bill nodded. “You remember her sudden resignation a few years ago, how it surprised everyone because she’d just made the rank?”

Again, Bill nodded, thinking back. It had surprised most of the Fleet. Helena Cain was known for being ambitious and ruthless. She'd climbed the ranks remarkably quickly and then, so soon after she’d received her gold pins, she’d up and quit.

Lee explained, “It wasn’t sudden and it wasn’t her choice. It had been brewing for a few months. I was assigned to the Pegasus at the time, got caught in the middle of it all. Cain had been slowly getting more and more anti-civilian. The Admiralty was worried, but she was doing her job well and her crew respected her, there was nothing they could do; it was just her point of view.

“Still, they were getting itchy about it. She’d become more outspoken and the radicals in the Fleet were starting to listen. You obviously know that a few high ranking admirals have Agency connections, so they made the call. Roslin came to the Pegasus herself. Admiral Wallace came on an inspection tour, Roslin accompanied him under the guise of his girlfriend visiting a battlestar for the first time.”

Bill listened intently, getting sucked into the story his son was telling, though a large part of him was merely enjoying the fact that Lee was speaking to him so much, and so freely.

His son went on, uninterrupted. “Turns out it was worse than anyone had thought. I mean, she wasn’t just against civilians, she had plans against them. Roslin found out about them. When Cain reached Fleet Commanding Admiral, which she would have eventually the way she was going, she was going to declare martial law and take over.”

The former commander could hardly believe it. “That’s insane.”

Lee just nodded. “That’s the point. She’d lost her mind and certainly her rational thought. Her hatred had eaten at her for years and she was convinced the Cylon’s would return, that the civilian population would just get in the way of winning the inevitable war, and so she was going to pillage every planet and draft every man until she was convinced they would be no match when they came back.”

“You got caught up in it?”

“Dead center, literally,” Lee told him. “It came to a stand off, Roslin and Cain, both of them pointing guns at the others head.”

Bill had a little trouble picturing Laura Roslin with a gun in her hand. She’d struck him as the bureaucratic type, but he let his imagination wander and it was like a scene out of a spy novel; the two women aiming their weapons and then trading witty barbs. It was a little sexy, if he were honest.

“Not knowing anything about Cain’s plans – I was just a pilot – I burst into the room. On instinct, I aimed at Roslin.” Lee shook his head and smiled. “She didn’t even glance my way, just started explaining the situation calmly, told me I could ask Admiral Wallace about it all if I wanted to, said, ‘The Admiral and I will wait right here, won’t we, Helena?’”

Bill gave a brief incredulous laugh. “What did you do?”

Lee shook his head. “I didn’t know what to do. Roslin’s making sense, I’d heard Cain’s rants before, and I knew she was cold-hearted. But my commanding officer is yelling at me to shoot Roslin, ordering me to. 

“I kept my gun on them, carefully made my way to the comm. and called Wallace, informed him of the situation. Then I tried to talk them both down, which was impossible. Finally, I told them I’d shoot them both. That was enough to make them hold back a bit, then Wallace came in with the cavalry and arrested Cain.

“After it was all over, Roslin took me aside and told me I’d done well. She said she hadn’t wanted to shoot the Admiral and I’d called Wallace and bought enough time for him to arrive,” said the younger man. 

“Then she asked if I was looking for a change of career. I told her I wasn’t, but she gave me the Agency’s card and said that if I ever changed my mind, call.”

Then Lee seemed to remember who he was talking to and his frame tensed. He finished what he was saying nonetheless. “Then Zak died and I just … I didn’t want to wear the same uniform he’d died in anymore. I didn’t want to wear the same uniform as you anymore.”

Like a blade across the belly, that hurt. Bill felt it like physical pain, but he kept it off his face, merely clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath. It wasn’t the same as after the funeral, Lee didn’t mean to hurt him this time, wasn’t carefully aiming words that would cause the most pain, he was just being honest.

Lee went on, “I called the number the next chance I could and asked her what I’d be getting into. She said, ‘You’d be useful again. You’d be saving lives. You’d be actively protecting the Colonies.’ I put in to muster out the next day and two months later I started my training with the Agency.”

His son pushed up from the table and started for the door, stopped. “Look, Dad, I don’t know how we’ll work together, I don’t …” he trailed off, shaking his head. “The Director asked me, when we were arguing over whether or not you were the right person for the position, whether I honestly thought, professionally, you would do a good job. She asked if I thought you were a good person, capable of leading good people.”

Then he met Bill’s eyes and said, “The trust between us goes both ways. She wouldn’t have told Nagala to give you the card, or taken your call, if I’d said no. I don’t know how we’ll work together,” he repeated, “but just don’t not take the job because of me. Just … if you think you can do well here and you want to, I’ll find a way to deal with it.”

With that, he walked out of the galley, not looking back again. Bill sat silent and stunned for a long time, thinking over everything he’d been told, everything Lee had revealed.


	6. Not A Dictator

The lights in the galley dimming pulled Bill out of his thoughts. He looked around, saw no one and guessed they must be on a timer. It was getting late. Sighing, he stood.   
  
The main office now only had one agent, sitting at his desk and tapping away at a computer. Billy’s work area was abandoned, but the door to Roslin’s office was open a crack.  
  
He pushed it in further, calling as he did, “Director Roslin?”  
  
“Come in, Mister Adama,” she returned and he entered fully to find her sitting behind her desk.  
  
“Chief Borders isn’t here?”  
  
“I sent him home early. You’d never be able to tell, but he’s in a frantic state of worry over Suzanne, his wife.”  
  
She gestured to a seat in front of the desk and he sat down, watching her eyes flick across a report in front of her. She signed it, then added it to a stack at her elbow, dropping her pen and leaning back in her chair with a sigh.  
  
“Long day?” he asked.  
  
She gave him a tired smile. “They always are.”  
  
“Do you get home much?”  
  
Roslin laughed and told him, “This is my home. I’m sure you saw the quarters in John’s office. Mine are through there and _I_ actually use them.” She pointed to the other door in the room.  
  
A bit surprised, Bill questioned, “You live here?”  
  
Her smile turned wry. “I know it’s sad.” Before he could claim that that wasn’t what he was trying to imply, she continued, “The Agency is my life, Mister Adama. I’ve given it my all for over twenty five years now.”  
  
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”  
  
She waved the apology off. “I know. But it _is_ sad.”  
  
Relaxing somewhat, he gave her a warm smile. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.” She nodded. “That was what it was like for me in the Fleet. It’s a solitary lifestyle when you’re in command, but … it’s worth it.”  
  
“You must miss it a great deal. I can’t imagine ever leaving here. In fact I’m sure I’ll be here until the day I die, throwing demands around.” The oddest look came over her face at those words, but she shook it off quickly and stood, walking over to a refreshment stand by the couch setting.  
  
“Billy made me a pot of coffee before he left, would you like a cup? He makes great coffee.”  
  
“Please.” He got up and followed her over, sighing as he sat back in the comfortable couch.  
  
She started pouring. “You take it black, no sugar, don’t you?”  
  
Looking at her curiously, he responded, “Yes. How did you know that?”  
  
Her smile was knowing, smug even. “You think you’d have been freely allowed to walk into this facility if I didn’t know _everything_ there was to know about you? And I do mean everything: your personal life, classified information and missions, psych evaluations, bank statements, your preferred liquor brands, what genre of music you enjoy, and, rather importantly, I think, how you take your coffee.”  
  
As she brought over the mug and joined him on the couch, her gaze turned sympathetic. “I know it’s disconcerting, your entire life being laid out for another person to see. It feels like an invasion of your privacy. I understand, I’ve been there. But I’m afraid it’s the way we operate around here before offering someone a job, letting them see and know about everything we do.”  
  
“How do you find it all out?”  
  
“Our resources and sources extend further than you can imagine,” she explained. “I can have a file made up on anyone in the Colonies within a few hours after I’ve put my people on it. I had yours waiting on my desk the morning after Nagala mentioned your name.”   
  
It was indeed disconcerting and he struggled with it for a moment, angry at the invasion, before sighing in resignation. “I suppose I should have figured out you’d do something like that. For a secret facility, your security did seem a bit lax.”  
  
“Our security is the best in the worlds,” she corrected. Then she changed the topic of conversation. “How was the reading?”  
  
He bit back a groan. “Enlightening. I didn’t nearly make it through all the boxes. I did see the point you were trying to make though, I got a good feel for this place and the work you do.”  
  
“Oh, you mean our vigilante work?” she teased.   
  
Bill smiled at her. “An overzealous description of what you do.” Then he turned serious. “I still don’t agree with a lot of what goes on here. You break the law, you take it into your own hands.” He paused for a moment and then met her eyes. “I flicked through a few of the black files.”  
  
“You should know that I wouldn’t just show those to anybody. But I had them put in so that you could see the full scale of our work and … I’m trying to be open with you, as difficult as that is for me after so many years of all this secrecy. We’re going to need to work as a team, you and I, if I should offer the job and you should take it.”  
  
Then she explained the black files. “Those are last resort scenarios, only ordered when we have exhausted all other options and lives are at stake.” She didn’t back down from his penetrating stare. “I don’t order assassinations lightly, Mister Adama. I wrestle long and hard with decisions like that.”  
  
Slowly, he nodded. “It mustn’t be easy.”  
  
“No.”  
  
He sighed and sipped at his coffee. “I do agree with the ultimate goal of your work, though. You do it for the Colonies, for the people. I get that. It’s why I joined the Fleet. But having no one to answer to …”  
  
She told him how she saw it, “It’s really not any different to the Fleet, or the civilian government. The road has to end somewhere. In the Fleet, it’s with the Commanding Admiral. In the government, the President. Here, it stops with me. What’s the difference?”  
  
“The difference is the Admiralty, and the Quorum of Twelve. Lower levels that have the power to overrule the senior official,” Bill stated.  
  
Roslin smiled again. “I’m not a dictator, you know. Everyone who works for me is welcome to have their say, to express concerns over my decisions, to outright disagree with them if they do. And I listen to each and every one of them and see if there isn’t some way for us to find the middle ground.  
  
“You think the group of idealistic, righteous men and women that work under me wouldn’t willingly rise up against me if I were out of line?” she asked, laughing. “They’d take me down to one of my own cells in a heartbeat. That’s why they’re chosen. They both believe in the greater good, and will do anything in its name. There’s no blind loyalty to a leader in these halls simply _because_ they’re the leader. I’ve earned their trust and our loyalty is to all of the Colonies and all of its citizens.”  
  
No wonder she’d convinced Lee to throw away his commission. The woman could be damn persuasive. He nodded. “I see your point. And I’m pleased with it.”  
  
“You’re going to accept the job,” she stated, grinning.  
  
His eyebrows lifted. “Are you offering it?”  
  
She stared at him for a long while and only his many years as an officer stopped him from fidgeting under her gaze. Finally she nodded. “I know you’re qualified. And I know your values are true. Yes. I’m making the offer. And you’re going to take it.”  
  
“How do you know that? I don’t even know that yet.”  
  
Shaking her head, she claimed, “I know what kind of man you are, Bill Adama. You’re liking what you’re seeing and you want to be a part of it.”  
  
“And what kind of woman are you, Laura Roslin? You know everything there is to know about me, but I don’t know a thing about you.”  
  
Roslin shrugged. “There isn’t much to know, to be honest. Born and raised right here in Caprica City. My parents were both public school teachers. I had two sisters. They’re all gone now.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
She waved it off. “Long time ago. I joined up with the Agency when I was in university. Turns out my philosophy professor moonlighted as a recruiter. I was tagged, chosen, and intrigued I signed on. Been here ever since. That’s pretty much it, really.” Then she shook her head. “But you’ll get the chance to learn more, if you’re still curious. We’ll be working closely, you’ll figure me out eventually.”  
  
He filed it all away, thought for a moment, then decided he needed to get away for a bit. He’d learned so much and though he still had more questions than answers, now wasn’t the time to ask. He needed to think, needed to decide to do this, figure out whether he even wanted to.  
  
Overwhelmed, Bill rose to his feet. “I’ve had a very … informative day. I … I need time to process everything. If you’ll excuse me, Director, I’d like to go back to my apartment.”  
  
She rose as well. “I suppose this is a lot to take in in one day. The Agency, everything we’ve done, Lee, the job offer. You’ve earned your rest, Mister Adama. I’ll call someone to have you escorted out.”  
  
Once she’d done that, she returned to him and walked him to the door. “I’ll be in touch. There’s no need for you to call again. I’ll give you a few days to process, as you called it, and then I’ll send for you. If it hasn’t been enough time, just tell the messenger so and I’ll give you a few more days. But don’t leave it for too long, Mister Adama, there’s work to be done.”  
  
An agent was approaching to lead him out, so Bill turned to her and held out his hand. “I won’t say it’s been a pleasure, Madame Director, but it has certainly been interesting.”  
  
She shook his hand with a warm smile. “It always is around here. I look forward to working with you.”  
  
Starting to walk away, he threw over his shoulder, “I haven’t said yes yet.”  
  
And he would have sworn on his mother’s grave that she got the last word in, stating undoubtedly, “You will.”

 


	7. Deemed Relevant

Lee pulled the truck up outside of the farmhouse and lifted the hood on his jacket before getting out. The weather was miserable, light, drizzling rain that kept the sun away and cold, harsh winds that signified winters approach.  
  
He nodded to the security agent, who was wearing overalls beneath his raincoat as he kept his cover of a gardener and pulled weeds, then made his way to the front door. Once inside, he pulled off his jacket and shook out his hair, then headed straight for the basement door.  
  
To a passerby, it was an old farmhouse, large and falling apart, maybe a nice place to get away from the city, fix-up and raise a family. Even if you went inside, it kept up that appearance. But the basement was something else all together, decked out with state of the art monitoring equipment, it was like stepping into another world; from light airy cream covered walls to the glow of computer screens reflecting off metal in a dark room.  
  
His partner looked up as he stepped off the bottom stair, gave a brief wave of greeting, then turned back to whatever she was studying. He walked over to stand beside her.  
  
“How’d it go?” Kara Thrace questioned.  
  
Lee shook his head. “They offered him the job. And I think he’s going to take it.”  
  
She smiled. “Good.” Then frowned at her partner’s expression. “Oh, for the love of the Gods, Lee, stop being an ass about it. Your dad’s a good guy and he knows what he’s doing, he’ll be great for the Agency. You forgave me and I was actually the one to blame, why can’t you ease up on him?”  
  
Ignoring the question and pushing away the rush of anger her words incited, Lee changed the subject. “What are these?” he asked, waving a hand at the photographs scattered across the table in front of them.  
  
“Surveillance pics of the compound,” she told him, turning back to them, though he could tell by the firm set of her mouth that she had not had her final say on his problems with his father. She pointed up to the pin-ups on the wall. “New satellite photos.”  
  
For a few long minutes, they poured over it all together, and then Kara broke the quiet. “What the hell do all of these women see in this frakker? He’s kind of good looking, when he bothers to brush his hair and shave, but they must know that he’s bat-shit crazy.”  
  
Lee laughed. “Maybe he’s just _that_ good in bed.”  
  
“They follow him before they frak him,” she said, sounding truly puzzled over it.   
  
He certainly was confused as hell; intelligent, pretty, successful women, willing to give up everything to move to the guy's compound in the country and do his bidding while they lived off the land? He must have had some kind of appeal.  
  
One of the pictures caught his eye and he picked it up, shifted it under the lamp on the table they were working over, squinting at it. It was taken from a long distance lens and was a bit blurry, but Lee thought he could make out the image of a woman … and his heart stopped in his chest.  
  
He took it over to the tech working one of the computers and asked him, “Can you scan this and clear it up?”  
  
“I can try,” the guy stated and then went about doing just that. Once the image was on the computer screen, he turned to Lee and said, “It might take a while.”  
  
Lee nodded. “Just get it done as soon as possible.”  
  
“What’d you see?” Kara asked, coming up behind him, frowning at the screen.  
  
He shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s her, but if it is …”  
  
“Lee?”  
  
Communicating with his eyes, he glanced at the tech, then back at Kara meaningfully. There were some things even other agents couldn’t know, and she nodded in understanding.   
  
It took almost an hour, mostly spent with Lee and Kara pouring further over the pictures, but when Lee looked back at the screen, the image was clear enough for a positive ID.  
  
“Frak me,” Kara whispered beside him, staring at the screen. “We better call Borders and the old lady.”  
  
Lee just nodded and shouted, “Clear the room!”   
  
Everyone looked up at him in surprise, but he was the ranking agent, and so his order was quickly obeyed. The tech, and two other agents who’d been quietly working in the basement, hurried up the stairs.   
  
Kara was dialing before the door had even closed behind them and after a brief conversation with Billy, Roslin’s voice filtered over the speaker of the phone. “Report.”  
  
“We’ve got a problem, Madame Director,” Lee said, still staring at the computer screen. This was bad. Very, very bad.  
  
“What kind of a problem, Agent Apollo?”   
  
It was Kara who told her, “The kind I’d call a Code-Holy-Mother-Of-All-Frak, Ma’am.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
“… I’m gonna’ ask Ellen what she thinks, about the boat, I mean. It’s not too expensive and fixing it up’ll keep me busy and out of her hair,” Saul was saying as Bill unlocked the door to his apartment.  
  
Bill didn’t know quite what to think about the reappearance of Ellen in his friend’s life. He was glad he was happy, but it wasn’t even midday and Saul was half drunk already. She always did bring out the worst in him.  
  
Stepping into the apartment, he stiffened, his instincts kicking in, telling him something was off. He looked around, searching for something out of place, didn’t see anything immediately, and then got the shock of his life when Laura Roslin walked out of his kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand.  
  
Both he and Saul froze, staring at her, and Bill started to splutter, “You - - “  
  
“Yes, I’m still here,” she said, looking to be only mildly caught off-guard that he wasn’t alone. “I hope you don’t mind that I stayed, I wanted to talk to you.”  
  
She was covering, Bill realized, shooting off the cuff to explain her presence to Saul. She moved over to Bill, slid her arm through his, and smiled at his friend, saying, “You must be Saul Tigh, Bill’s told me so much about you. I’m Laura.”  
  
Bill's confusion only lasted a few seconds. She knew everything about him, so it was only logical she could identify his best friend. She was leaning into him and with a barely concealed start, Bill realized how she was playing it.  
  
Saul continued to gape for a moment and then reached out to shake her hand. “That’s funny, he’s told me nothing about you.”  
  
“Oh,” she said, laughing and waving a hand. “I shouldn’t have expected him to. We only met a week ago, in a bookstore not far from here. We’re still getting to know each other.”  
  
Well, that was true, technically. If Saul took it to mean something completely different – which Bill saw he was, by the sly grin he was giving him.  
  
“Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Laura,” Saul stated and Bill decided that his best friends smile was now officially stupid. He glared at him, but Saul ignored it and said, “I’ll, ah, leave you to it, Bill.”  
  
Bastard winked as he walked out, closing the door behind him. Bill turned to his remaining companion and found that she too was thoroughly amused. He certainly was not.  
  
“How’d you get in here?” he asked, watching as she took a seat on his couch and sipped at her coffee.  
  
She smiled at him. “Your doorman couldn't take his eyes off my legs and I used to be quite the lock-pick back in the day. Wasn’t hard, your security is rather abysmal.”  
  
Taking off his jacket and moving to hang it up, Bill glanced at her legs, only partially hidden by the casual skirt she wore. He abruptly halted any plans to have a stern word with Boris the doorman; they really _were_ nice legs.  
  
Bill shook that off and opened the closet by the door. “You know now I’ll have to handle twenty questions with Saul. He’ll be asking all about you next time I see him and he isn’t the kind to let up without details.”  
  
“We all have our part to play, Mister Adama, to keep the secret,” Roslin said. “Lee for example: to the outside world, he’s just a bartender. Nobody knows that really he’s a secret agent and the bar that he works at is Agency property, its patrons are agents, and there’s an entrance to the main facility in the storeroom.”  
  
Walking into the kitchen, he found the pot of coffee she’d made and poured himself a cup, then headed back to her.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home,” she was saying. “You took longer than I thought you would.”  
  
He sat down next to her. “I wasn’t expecting you.”  
  
“I told you someone would come.”  
  
“Yeah, but I didn’t know when and I didn’t think it’d be you. Don’t you have a vigilante group to run?”  
  
She laughed. “Yes, I do. But I don’t get to the surface often and I needed a break.”  
  
“And if I haven’t made up my mind yet?”  
  
All trace of amusement left her face and she met his eyes seriously. “You need to decide soon, Bill,” she told him and he was momentarily distracted by her use of his first name. Sounded nice when she sa.  
  
Refocusing, he asked, “Why?”  
  
“Suzanne, John’s wife, took a turn for the worse. The doctors think she only has a few months left. She wants to spend them with her son and her grandchildren. I have to let him go, I can’t ask him to stay. And I can’t be without a Tactical Chief. Not now.   
  
“Things are happening. The case we’re working on has just become a bomb, and the timer’s started ticking. I’m sure Lee could step up, if he has to, but I want him completely focused on this case and as Chief, he’d have to oversee the entire operation, it would distract him.”  
  
Thinking, Bill sipped at his coffee. Then he questioned, “Lee’s only been with you for a couple of years. Don’t you have more experienced agents that can do the job? You said he’d be your first choice, why?”  
  
“He’s the right man for it. Or he will be, one day. And yes, I do have agents that have been with the Agency longer, are more experienced, but they don’t possess the skills that are needed for this job,” she explained. “I need someone who can make difficult decisions with little time in which to make them. I need someone who commands respect, whose orders will be followed without hesitation.”  
  
Then she looked straight into his eyes and told him, “I need a leader, Mister Adama. I need you.”  
  
He looked back just as seriously and then slowly nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it. Now what’s this bomb that’s about to blow up?”  
  
“Come back to the facility with me, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.  We weren’t expecting it and it could be disastrous.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

They sat across from each other in her office again, the coffee table between them, and Roslin handed him a photograph of a man with long hair on both his head and face.  
  
“His name is Gauis Baltar. Heard of him?” she asked.  
  
Bill frowned, struggling to remember. “The name rings a bell, but I can’t seem to place it.”  
  
“He’s a computer scientist. Worked for the Ministry of Defense a few years ago, designing integrated security systems for them,” Roslin explained. “With a little help from us, they discovered he’d actually allowed an unauthorized woman access to the systems and she had built back-doors into it. He lost his job, the fame he’d built up, his influence, everything.  
  
“So he headed out of the city, and has, over the past few years, built up a steady following. Mostly women. They’re loyal to him to a fault, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why.”  
  
Bill surmised, “It’s a cult.” Then he met Roslin’s eyes. “But cults are only illegal on Geminon. They aren’t even all that dangerous most of the time.”  
  
She shook her head. “Normally, they’re harmless, and mostly the only danger they pose is to themselves. But we decided to keep an eye on Doctor Baltar, because if he wanted to, he could be a very dangerous man.”  
  
“I take it your precautionary measures have paid off?”  
  
“You could say that,” she said. “About a year ago we managed to discover that a few of the women have been quietly meeting with this man.” She handed him another photograph, taken from a fair distance. “His name is Leoben, and he’s a known arms dealer.”  
  
“They’ve been arming themselves.”  
  
“They have enough weaponry to qualify as a small army,” she explained. “I’ve got an agent on the inside, and it’s all been confirmed. Though my agent tells me the women are certain that the weapons they’ve been taught to use are only for self defense.  
  
“It’s his teachings that worried me most,” she went on. “He teaches faith in a one true God. He gives sermons on Him, claims that anyone who doesn’t believe is a blasphemer who’ll burn in hell.”  
  
Bill pointed out, “Again, not illegal on Caprica. Though the weapons worry me. Can’t the local security forces move in and confiscate them? Arrest them all for carrying unlicensed arms?”  
  
Roslin nodded. “They can. But they don’t know. We’ve kept it to ourselves.” He gave her a sharp look, ready to protest, but she held up a hand and forestalled him. “If you’ll let me continue?”   
  
Bill gave her a reluctant nod, and she told him, “His teachings are strongly anti-government. Not surprising really, since he lost his job and all the benefits that came with it. We figure that Caprica City would be his target, since it houses Government Plaza.”  
  
“Target? You’re saying he’s planning something?”  
  
“Gauis Baltar is a brilliant man, Mister Adama, it’s why I deemed him a security risk and ordered surveillance. If he wanted to, he would be capable of designing and building his own nuclear weapon. And guess what?”  
  
He gaped at her for a moment, a sinking feeling building in the pit of his stomach. “He wants to.”  
  
“Yes. He does.”   
  
Then she sighed and for a brief moment, reminded Bill of Atlas, the weight of the entire world bearing down on the titans shoulders. He wondered if she was religious and if she were, did she pray to the god of heavy burdens, maybe asked him to ease some of her own?  
  
Within the blink of an eye, she straightened again and was back to business. “That alone would have been bad enough, but we were planning to intercept his order of uranium and then storm the compound ourselves.”  
  
“Were? You aren’t anymore?”  
  
“No, because things have gone from bad, to worse.”   
  
She handed him another photograph, this one of a woman, blonde hair and a stunningly beautiful face. Bill inspected it for a moment and then asked, “Who’s this?”  
  
Roslin gave him a grim smile. “That’s a very good question, Mister Adama. If you’ll come with me.”  
  
She stood up, and strode from the room. Bill, still clutching the photograph, hurriedly followed. As she made her way through the main office, he couldn’t help but notice how her people quickly got out of her way, each of them nodding respectfully as she passed.  
  
They made their way down one of the long hallways, the one Bill could remember Lee telling him housed their cells and interrogation rooms.   
  
They entered an office and the security officer on guard dove to his feet. “Madame Director,” he said, lowering his head the same way all the other agents had, in respect.  
  
“Take a break, David,” she told the young man without breaking her stride.   
  
He hesitated for a second, and then nodded, quickly leaving. Bill looked around. The main feature of the room being the glass window – he assumed it to be one-way – that allowed one to look into the cells themselves. Three cells, one occupied.   
  
Roslin moved to stand in front of that one, staring through the window at the prisoner, and Bill followed. He looked at the photograph, then back at the woman in the cell. “It’s her.”  
  
“No,” the Director said. “It’s not. That photograph was taken two days ago by a team outside Baltar’s compound. This woman has been in this cell for two years.”  
  
 _They’ve kept her locked up for two years?_ he thought, but then shook it off. That wasn’t the point, he’d ask later. “They’re identical,” he said instead. “Sisters?”  
  
Again, she was Atlas for a brief moment and he wondered at all that was weighing her down, and then she turned to meet his eyes and told him exactly what it was that kept her so tense, “Not sisters. Remember those things you deemed irrelevant? These women are Cylon’s, Bill.”

 


	8. Almost Human

Bill stared at the Director, uncomprehending, slowly shaking his head as blood rushed through his system and roared in his ears. Then he looked back at the woman in the cell, lying peacefully on her cot, reading a book, oblivious to being watched through the one-way mirror.  
  
She most certainly was not what he remembered. The creature he was looking at was nothing like the ones he had fought against during the war, nothing like the ones that had killed his friends and tried to destroy his people.  
  
Looking back at Roslin, he stuttered, “C-Cylon’s? How? How is this possible? How do you know?” He looked back at the blonde woman. “She looks so …”  
  
“Human?” Roslin offered. “Yes, she does, doesn’t she? But she’s not. She’s a Cylon. They have the ability to mimic human form. They look like us now.”  
  
“You’re certain?”  
  
“She readily admits what she is. And our tests prove it. For all intents and purposes, she looks, feels, speaks just like a human. She bleeds and she cries and she laughs just like us. We had another one, too. Looked just like her. Their personalities were quite different, though.”  
  
“How’d you …” he started and then had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could try again. “How did you capture her - it?”  
  
“We got the other one first, didn’t know what she was for quite some time,” she told him. “In fact, she was the woman who Gauis Baltar had let into the Defense mainframe.”  
  
Bill’s gaze snapped back to the Director. “He let a Cylon into our Defense systems?”  
  
She nodded. “But to be fair, I’m certain that at the time, he didn’t know what she was. Still, you can see how disastrous that could have been.”  
  
“She could have dropped all of our defenses, they could have attacked, it could have been …” He couldn’t even find words for it.  
  
“Apocalyptic is what it could have been,” Roslin supplied. “Like I told you, we’d discovered she’d built back doors into the system. Billions could have died. Then though, we didn’t know what she was.”  
  
“How’d you find out?”  
  
“Lee told me he told you about how we met, aboard the Pegasus.” Bill nodded. “We found this one there. She goes by the name of Gina, she was Admiral Cain’s lover for some time.”  
  
Again, he was shocked. “Cain was sleeping with a Cylon?”  
  
“To be fair once more, while Cain was sleeping with her, she didn’t know what she was. And when she found out, when Gina herself, claiming she was in love, wanting to forget all that was being planned and be _human,_ told Cain what she was, the Admiral locked her in a solitary cell aboard ship.  
  
“But she didn’t inform the Admiralty of the danger,” Roslin told him and again, he was utterly surprised and couldn’t stop gaping at the Director in disbelief.  
  
She kept telling him the story. “She kept it quiet, except for a few of her most trusted officers, who were blindly loyal to her. She had them interrogate her …” Roslin trailed off and he saw her grimace. “Cylon or not, the things that were done to her … they were inhumane.”  
  
“Inhumane? She’s a machine!” Bill railed.  
  
Roslin shook her head. “I know. The problem I have trouble with was that _human beings_ – officers of the Colonial Fleet – actually did the things that were done to her.”  
  
He looked her straight in the eye. “I’ve read your reports, Madame Director, you have no problem sanctioning torture against _people_.”  
  
Her eyes flashed. “Torture is one thing, Mister Adama, rape is another.”  
  
Bill was back to gaping in disbelief. “They - -“  
  
She cut him off. “Yes, they did. Brutally and repeatedly. Though as much as I abhor it, they did me a favor. Her treatment aboard that ship has made her much more agreeable to my friendly approach.   
  
“She’s been an invaluable source of information. She won’t tell us about the others of her kind, but she has told us there are only twelve models. And she helped to ensure we’d removed the threat that the other one had put in place within the Defense mainframe.”  
  
“And where is the other one?”  
  
Roslin raised an eyebrow. “She wasn’t as cooperative, not even when I ordered a … less than friendly approach. I had no use in keeping her alive. I had her executed.’  
  
Considering what they were dealing with, Bill was only slightly unsettled by how easily she said that. He held up the photograph. “And now Gauis Baltar has gotten himself another. Whatever he’s planning, she’s in on it.”  
  
“Or controlling it. That’s what worries me the most. The one true God thing that Baltar is sprouting, it happens to be a Cylon belief.”  
  
Bill nodded. “Now I see what your agent meant when they described it as a Code-Holy-Mother-Of-All-Frak.”  
  
“Indeed.” A long moment of silence and then, “Do you want to meet her?”  
  
The question threw him for a loop. Bill looked from Roslin, through the glass to the Cylon, then back at the Director. “Meet her?”  
  
“Yes. Would you like to speak to her?”  
  
He thought about it for a long moment. Talk to the thing? Have a conversation with a frakking Cylon? It sounded insane, but he was intensely curious, so, unsurely, he nodded and Roslin led him through another door, into the tight corridor outside of the cells.  
  
The Cylon heard them approach and put her book down, standing and coming closer to the bars that housed her. She spoke quietly, glancing at Bill uncertainly. “Good afternoon, Madame Director.”  
  
He could have sworn he saw a flash of fear cross her face when she looked at him. Well that was just fine. He was pretty frakking scared of her, too.  
  
Roslin was equally polite when she said, “Good afternoon, Gina. I’d like to introduce you to my new Tactical Chief, Bill Adama.”  
  
Even though the thing had no problem looking Roslin in the eyes, she wouldn’t meet his. Was it because of what had been done to her? Because he was a man? Holy frak, was the thing actually _traumatized_ by her experience aboard the Pegasus?  
  
“It’s nice to meet you, Chief Adama,” she said and he started when he realized that she – the Cylon – was the first person to address him by his new title within the Agency.  
  
He stuttered for a moment. “Ah, yeah … you too.”  
  
She looked to Roslin again. “Chief Borders is gone?”  
  
The Director nodded. “Yes. You know his wife has been unwell, he’s taking her to Scorpia as soon as he can. Their son lives there.”  
  
“If you speak to him again, let him know that I wish him happiness in his retirement and I pray for his wife’s recovery.”  
  
“I will,” Roslin promised. “Are you enjoying the book?”  
  
She was still glancing hesitantly at Bill, but became more comfortable and animated when she spoke next, “Yes, thank you very much. I like Thomas.”  
  
Nodding, Roslin told her, “So do I. He’s an intriguing character, isn’t he?”  
  
“Yes, but not as intriguing as the investigation. I’ve only a few chapters left and I still can’t figure out who killed the girl.”  
  
Bill felt like he was in a very unusual dream watching Laura Roslin have a simple conversation with a Cylon over a book. After clearing his throat, he asked, “What – What are you reading?”  
  
“Director Roslin lent me _Blood Runs At Midnight_. It’s a mystery.”  
  
He looked back at the Director and she smiled at him. “Don’t let the title fool you, it’s actually pretty good.” Then she turned back to the Cylon. “We have to be going. Have the guard let me know when you’ve finished the book. I’ll bring you another.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
And then, in a baffled haze, Bill followed Laura from the room. Back in the surveillance room, he continued to stare through at the Cylon. “That was … surreal. She seems so human. She was … scared of me?”  
  
“She tends to be of most men, John’s one of the few she’ll talk freely with,” Roslin told him and then touched his arm, turning his eyes to meet hers.   
  
“Yes, she feels pain over what was done to her. She’s uncomfortable in a room with men, won’t let male doctors inspect her. But never forget, Chief Adama, whether the emotions are real or not, she was programmed to feel them and we have no way of knowing what else she was programmed to do. They’re still the enemy. We can’t forget that and we can’t trust them.”  
  
He frowned. “You were so pleasant to her. You’re lending her books.”  
  
“It’s my friendly approach,” she told him and then gave a small smile. “You know, more flies with honey, that kind of thing. Now, we should go back to my office. Your son and his partner will be here shortly. I wanted them in on the meeting to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about Baltar and his Cylon.”  
  
“Who else will be there?” he asked, following her from the room, back down the hallway.  
  
“No one. Even within the Agency, I’ve kept what Gina is a very tight secret. Only my closest advisors and top agents know. And of course, a few Admiral’s are aware of the situation, as well as the Defense Minister. But we feared that public knowledge would only cause widespread panic and deep paranoia.”  
  
Once they were back in her office and settled into chairs on either side of her desk, he asked, “What _are_ we going to do about Baltar and his Cylon?”  
  
“Take them down,” she said succinctly. “We won’t let them build their bomb and we most certainly won’t let them use it. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll let you figure that out with Apollo and Starbuck.”  
  
That caught his attention and he sat higher in his seat. “Starbuck? As in, Kara Thrace?”  
  
“Oh,” she said, looking surprised for a moment. “I’d forgotten you knew her. Yes, Kara. She’s Lee’s partner.”  
  
He shook his head slowly, thinking of the young blonde woman his son had wanted to marry. “I tried to keep in touch with her after Zak’s funeral. Heard she’d mustered out. Pity really, I’d heard she was the best pilot that had ever sat in a Viper.”  
  
“From what I understand, Kara had difficulty remaining in the Fleet after your son’s death. She quit her job at the Flight Academy and was then stationed on a ship, but was drinking a lot, having disciplinary problems.”  
  
“Yes, I know,” Bill told her. “I was going to offer her a job on the Galactica. Thought maybe I’d be able to help her through it.”  
  
“Lee was there, it seems. He was actually the one who brought her into the Agency and his friendship and the job seemed to put her back on her feet. And the Fleet’s loss was my gain; they work like a dream in the field together,” she explained.  
  
Her phone rang, she picked it up and had a brief conversation. “Yes, Billy, send them in.” She looked back up at Bill. “Speaking of.”  
  
The door opened and Lee entered, followed closely by Kara Thrace, who’s face lit up when she saw him. He grinned at her and walked over, meeting her halfway for a hug.   
  
“Kara,” he said softly into her hair and then moved back to inspect her. “You look good. How have you been?”  
  
“Fine. It’s great to see you,” she told him sincerely. “Hear you’re my boss now, Chief.”  
  
“That’s what they tell me,” he said.  
  
Roslin spoke up, breaking into the reunion, “Agent Thrace, Agent Adama. I’d like to get your thoughts on what we should do about this latest situation.”  
  
They convened on the couches around the coffee table and Lee spoke first. “I think we need to move fast on this. Letting it sit for too long could be dangerous. We need to take them out, fast, before they can do anything.”  
  
“I agree,” Roslin said and then the door opened and Billy walked in, handing her a rolled up sheet of paper. Without a word, he exited again. “Blueprints of the compound,” Roslin told them, handing them to Apollo.  
  
The younger Adama spread them out on the coffee table and Bill leaned forward, studying them intently. “What kind of security do they have?”  
  
Kara said, “There’s little cover for about a hundred feet, until you reach the woods and the entire field is littered with motion detectors, with security camera’s covering every angle. There’s a fence around the compound itself, high rise, barbed wire.”  
  
Lee took up the explanation. “Once on the inside, it’s not much different. Security camera’s everywhere. Even their vegetable gardens are covered. And at all times a few of the women are armed, walking the perimeter. The one thing working in our favor is that it’s all controlled from the inside and we have someone in there.”  
  
Roslin looked at the two agents. “I assume you two have already got some ideas.”  
  
“It won’t be possible to get in undetected,” Starbuck told them. “And we know they’re packing some serious heat. It’ll have to be a forceful takedown.” She met the Director’s eyes. “We’re probably going to lose people.”  
  
“Starbuck and I thought maybe two teams. We’ll have our agent on the inside shut down their generator, knock out their security system. But that’ll get some attention and we think they’ll arm themselves straight away,” Lee said.  
  
Kara spoke, “Have the first team, the cavalry, head straight on in through the front gates, knock ‘em down and make some noise. Get the women on the defensive and their attention focused there. Team two, maybe four or five of us, will head in through the back, quietly. We’ll locate Baltar and his girlfriend and if possible, we’ll extract them. If not, we’ll take them both down.”  
  
“I thought there were only about thirty field agents on Caprica? And a lot of them are scattered, some undercover,” Bill broke in. “We don’t have that kind of manpower.”  
  
Lee told him, a bit more forcefully than was necessary, “Then we’ll have to call them all in.”  
  
“No,” Roslin said, shaking her head. “Some of them are in sensitive positions, they need to stay there.”  
  
She thought for a moment, staring at the blueprints, and then told them, “The cavalry through the front gate doesn’t have to be Agency. We’ll work with the locals, they can go in. Easier for us in any case, since we’d only be handing all of those women over to them anyway, to be charged with possessing illegal weapons.  
  
“I’ll make the call. Justin Hughes is a senior officer in Caprica City. He’s also an old friend of mine. I’ll coordinate with him and his team on the ground doesn’t even have to know that we’re going in.”  
  
“That could be dangerous,” Bill pointed out. “If they’re seen by law enforcement, they won’t be known as friendlies and they’ll be targeted.”  
  
Laura smiled at him, looking at him over the top of her glasses. “Then they’ll have to make sure they aren’t seen by the locals, won’t they?” Then she looked at her agents.  
  
Both of them nodded and Kara promised, “We’ll be invisible.”  
  
“Sort out the details,” she ordered. “I want a plan, weaponry requisitions and an exact time on my desk within two hours.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Lee and Kara said simultaneously, picking up the blueprints and heading for the door.  
  
Roslin looked at Bill. “Why are you still sitting there? You’re the Tactical Chief now, Bill, go figure out the tactics.”  
  
He smiled at her as he stood up and then repeated the young agents, “Yes, ma’am,” before following after them.

 


	9. Plans Made

Bill sighed as he left the briefing room, where he, Lee and Kara had been working on their plan to move on Gaius Baltar’s compound. They’d headed out before him to write up the proposal for the Director.  
  
Lee wasn't going to be as easy to work with as Bill had hoped. He'd been resistant to every contribution his father had attempted to make to their plans, forcing both the older man and Kara to argue their merits even when they were obviously legitimate ideas.   
  
The tension between them was still too strong. It was going to make their working together difficult. He had to find some way to reconnect with his son, make amends for past misdeeds, make it right between them again.   
  
He felt like it was an urgent shadow over his head. Lee was going on the mission, heading into the base of a group of heavily armed cultists. He could be hurt. He could be killed. And then they’d never get the chance to make things right between them. He wanted to try so badly, but where did he start?  
  
Unable to think of a place, Bill headed for Roslin’s office, got as far as Billy and was told, “She’s not in there, sir.”  
  
“Will she be back soon?”  
  
The young man looked hesitant to answer. “I’m not sure, sir. She has an appointment in Life Station, it may take a while.”  
  
“Life Station?” Bill questioned. “Something wrong?”  
  
“Just allergies, sir,” Billy told him, the words a tad too rushed?  
  
Though he didn’t quite believe the kid (whose blush would make him the absolute worst Triad player) Bill didn’t press. Instead, he put his hands into the pockets of his pants and asked the aide, “The mission’s all planned out. What do I do now?”  
  
Billy gave him a brief smile. “The Director usually paces a lot before a mission, once all the work’s been done.” Then he retrieved a file from the large stack on his desk and handed it over. “I know she wanted you to look over this. Empty positions that need to be filled, she thought you might have some ideas.”  
  
Taking it, Bill said, “I suppose I’ll look it over in … my office.” When he turned and saw the empty desk in front of it, he asked Billy, “Do I get one of you?”  
  
The aide looked baffled. “Sir?”  
  
“An assistant,” he clarified, waving towards the desk. “Do I get an assistant?”  
  
“It’s in the file, sir, one of the positions that need to be filled. For now I’ll be handling all your administrative needs.”  
  
“What do I do with the names I think of?”  
  
Billy explained, “Give them to me, sir. I’ll have files made on all of them for the Director. Then you and she can go through them, and the other candidates, and make a decision.”  
  
“Right,” Bill mumbled and then headed into his office, closing the door behind him.  
  
The room was still barren and when he got time, he’d make sure to fix that. He was eager to get his books onto the shelf. Looking around, he found there was only one box left in the room since the last time he’d been in and he assumed they were files that Roslin wanted him to read.  
  
First things first, he sat behind his desk. It was a large, wooden structure, sturdy and with plenty of top space. Bill also approved of the chair, very comfortable. He checked the drawers: pens, pencils, a few blank notepads, and a host of stationary equipment.   
  
He grabbed a pad and a pencil, set them at his elbow and then opened the file and went to work.  
  
It was maybe three quarters of an hour later that Roslin knocked and, before he could even grant permission, entered, her eyes focused on a file in her hand. “You agree to all this?” she asked.  
  
“That the plan?” She hummed an affirmation. “Then yeah, I do, if they wrote it up the way we discussed it.”  
  
“Billy’s making you a copy. Two nights from now then and hopefully the entire Baltar situation will all be over and done with,” she stated and then finally looked up at him. “Settling in?”  
  
Bill looked around at his empty surroundings. “I’ll get there. You okay?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
He told her, “Billy said you had an appointment in Life Station.” Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and he continued, “Allergies or something?”  
  
Roslin’s face cleared. “Oh, yes. Being down here, the recycled air plays havoc with me sometimes.”  
  
Her Triad face was much better than her aide’s, but it didn’t help that Billy had already given the game away. “That all?”  
  
“Yes.” She cocked an eyebrow in challenge.  
  
Bill did not take her up on it. “Alright then.” If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him.   
  
“You’ll have to head down there some time yourself,” she informed him. “All employees are required to undergo an annual medical exam.”  
  
Making a sound in the back of his throat – because a treadmill test was just what he needed at his age and one of the bonuses of leaving the Fleet was that it was supposed to be a thing of the past – he reluctantly agreed. “I’ll make the time soon. After we raid Baltar’s compound.”  
  
“See that you do, Chief.”  
  
As she was turning to leave, he stopped her, asking, “Am I supposed to live here too?”  
  
She laughed. “Only if you’re as obsessive as I am. No, you don’t have to. It wouldn’t hurt to put a bed in there, though,” she waved at the door leading to his private suite. “All nighters are common. Helps to have a place where you can catch half an hour or so.”  
  
“And if I am as obsessive as you are?”  
  
“Then by all means, it’s yours to do with as you like, Bill,” she said, and then told him, “But you should probably keep your apartment. In fact, tell Billy about it and he’ll add it to the finances. We’ll pay the rent. I’ve told you before, we’ve all got our parts to play. Your friend, Mister Tigh, may get suspicious if you suddenly don’t have a place to invite him over to.”  
  
“Actually, his name’s on this list, so that may not be a problem,” he said, holding up his notepad. “Billy gave me a list of jobs you need filled. I thought Tigh might be good as one of the new instructors in the training facility. Where is that by the way?”  
  
“Other side of the city in the catacombs,” she told him as she moved to sit in the chair across from him. Leaning forward, she began carefully, “I know Tigh is your friend - -“  
  
Seeing where she was going, he cut her off. “He’s a good man. Isn’t that what you’re looking for? And he’s qualified. He was an instructor at the Academy for a while.”  
  
She held up her hands, placating him. “Let me finish, please. I know he’s your friend, which is why I had a file made on him … and his wife. She’s the one I’m worried about. Secrecy is our greatest weapon. It’s our first law. It’s the first thing our agents are instructed on. We do not exist to the outside world and we like it that way. Ellen Tigh is a woman who can’t hold her tongue.”  
  
“I never said anything about bringing in Ellen. I’m talking about Saul. And if he’s told not to tell her, or anyone else, he won’t. He’s a man of his word, even when it comes to Ellen,” Bill argued.   
  
Without missing a beat, Roslin shot back, “And if he’s too drunk to realize what he’s saying?”  
  
Bill sighed. Damned if the woman didn’t make good points when she argued. But he knew Saul, better than he knew anyone. “I know he’s got a drinking problem, and the Gods know Ellen doesn’t help that, but he won’t let himself get that drunk. Not if he has something to keep quiet. He knows his limits and he can stop before he gets loose lips.”  
  
She took a moment to think and then sighed, standing. “I’ll think about it.”  
  
Once again, as she started to move towards the door, Bill stopped her. “Speaking of Ellen, Saul will have told her all about you by now. She’ll be desperate to meet you and I’ll never hear the end of it if she doesn’t. You want to keep up that front? Maybe some time after this mission’s done with.”  
  
Roslin smirked at him, mischief lighting her eyes. “Are you asking me on a double date, Chief?”  
  
He smirked right on back. “We all have our parts to play, Madame Director.”  
  
Again, she took a minute to think and then she smiled at him. “I do enjoy getting to the surface. And if you’re serious about Tigh, then I’d like to get to know him better. Ellen too.”  
  
Bill laughed to himself as she left. Ellen Tigh and Laura Roslin in a room together. That should be interesting. Might make all the ribbing he was sure to get from Saul about the strange, beautiful woman in his apartment worth it.

 


	10. Breathe, Godsdammit

Laura shifted uncomfortably on the bed in Life Station. She hated the place, had watched too many good agents die here that she was able to visualize the dark specter of death in every corner of the room.   
  
Sitting on a bed in little more than a paper smock didn’t put her anymore at ease. And the damn doctor was taking his frakking sweet time. Two days in a frakking row she’d had to sit waiting for him now.   
  
She sighed as she remembered the previous day and his quiet words of confirmation. _“The biopsy confirmed it. It’s back. But it’s worse.”_  
  
She’d tried to pull rank, told him she’d be down when she was good and damn well ready, but she’d never been able to intimidate him, not from the first day they’d met, many years ago, when he’d pulled a bullet out of her shoulder and she’d told him that he’d better give her more pain meds or she’d jam the removed scrap of metal right up his nostril.  
  
 _“Try it, young lady, and I’ll jab you in the ass with a horse tranq,”_ had been his easy response, even as he administered the demanded pain meds.  
  
Almost fifteen years later, and he still called her ‘young lady’. If he weren’t such a grouch, she’d think it sweet.   
  
She smelt him before she saw him, and sure enough, in a whirl of cigarette smoke, Jack Cottle drew back the curtain and strode up to her. She glared at him, he stared right back, thoroughly _not_ intimidated by a look that sent rook agents diving for cover.   
  
“I’ve told you not to smoke in here, Jack,” she said for what must have been the thousandth time at least.  
  
He replied with his standard answer, “And I’ve told you that as soon as you get a medical degree, you can tell me how to run my Life Station.”  
  
She sighed. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait a day or two? I’ve got agents getting ready to head out tonight.”  
  
“Yeah, and you don’t help them a damn bit wearing a hole in your carpet,” he said and then stubbed out his cigarette in a bedpan. “And the tumor in your breast is what’s so important.”  
  
“It’s not going anywhere, Jack. This really couldn’t have waited?”  
  
He glared at her. “Until when, Madame Director? Until the cancer’s gone to your brain? Until you’re dead? You put off the breast exam long enough that I didn’t find the little bugger until it had had almost two years to grow.   
  
“If you’d let me do the damn test a year ago, when you were supposed to, it might have been small enough that it could have been pinched right out, like the last time, I could have just nixed the thing. Now I can’t do it. You need a surgeon. Just so happens I know of one. He’s supposed to be very good and he’s discreet. He can be here this afternoon.”  
  
She matched his glare. “Not a chance in hell. One: there’s an op tonight. I won’t miss it and I need to be able to deal with any fallout. Two: anyone coming into this facility needs to be vetted and I have to sign off on it.”  
  
“You can’t put this off forever. Not if you want to live,” he replied. Then he pulled a pen out of his pocket and moved to undo the front of her gown.  
  
She let him, only because he’d seen her naked more times than … any man, really. _And how pathetic is that?_ a little voice in the back of her mind snarked. _The most intimate relationship you’ve had in years is with your doctor._  
  
He gruffly apologized for his cold hands as he took her left breast and started marking it. “I’m not the expert, so this is just a rough estimate from what I’ve seen. When the surgeon gets in there, he’ll have a better idea.”  
  
From the nipple, down to the underside, across and back up again until the black marker met where it began. Laura stared at it in dawning horror. “Jack … this isn’t like the last time, is it?” she asked, glancing at the small scar that marred her skin.  
  
Placing the cap back on his pen, his voice was sympathetic. “Partial mastectomy. You’ll likely lose a quarter of the breast.”  
  
He kept speaking, but Laura didn’t hear a word of it. Blood was rushing through her ears and she suddenly felt like she was going to throw up. Her hand shot to her breast and grabbed at it roughly.   
  
“Calm down,” Cottle’s voice was as soothing as it could be in her ear. “Breathe, Laura. For frak’s sake, take a breath.”  
  
She did as she was instructed and let him lay her back on the gurney, let him cover her chest again. Then, hysterically, she started to laugh. He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, took her hand and asked, “Mind telling me what the hell is so frakking funny about this?”  
  
Wiping a tear from her eye, she explained, “I was just thinking before, how sad it is that you’re the only man who’s seen my breasts in, oh Gods, far too long. And now …” All laughter died away as the grim reality set in. “You’ll be the last. You and the doctor who’s going to take it away.”  
  
“Not all of it, not even most of it. And if it helps any, I think it’s a very nice breast. I’ll be sorry to see it go,” he quipped with the straightest of faces.  
  
She couldn’t help it. Giggles overwhelmed her and she laughed so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. Jack stayed beside her the whole fit, holding her hand tightly, even as he lifted another cigarette out of his pocket and put it in his mouth.  
  
When she settled, she found him looking down at her seriously. In his gentle voice, the one she was unused to hearing, he said, “You need to get this done soon, Laura. We can’t let it spread any further. I’d rather give you a round of diloxin before we went in, but I don’t want to waste any time. So we’ll take it out, hit you with a dose of therapy and then it’ll all be over.”  
  
“Diloxin? Isn’t there anything else - -“  
  
He cut her off. “For once in your life would you just listen to your doctor and do as you’re told?” The words were harsh, but his tone wasn’t.  
  
Sitting up a bit, she reached out and took the smoke off him, taking a long draw and then watching the plume float toward the ceiling. “Let me get this mission out of the way. We’ll take Baltar down, clean up whatever mess follows and then I’ll try to fit it in.”  
  
“No trying. You’ll do it. It’ll be a _minimum_ of three days recovery, but it could be much longer, months, before you’re back in top shape.” Before she could throw a fit, he stopped her, saying, “No arguments. You aren’t irreplaceable, at least for a little while. That aide of yours can run this place in his sleep, and you’ve got yourself a new Chief now who can handle the hard decisions.”  
  
“It’s his first week,” she protested weakly.  
  
The doctor just smiled at her. “Yeah, well, this’ll test his mettle then, won’t it?” Then he snatched his cigarette back and hopped off the bed. “Get dressed and get out of here. I’ve got real patients to see.”

~~~~~~~~~~

  
Bill blinked as he entered the storeroom, the sudden change in light almost blinding him for a second as he went from the catacombs to the room behind the bar. He turned to his escort, gave him his thanks for getting him to his destination safely, and then headed out into the main room.  
  
It was small, dark and smoky, looked like the kind of place he’d frequented on shore leave when he was young. Tables and chairs all over the place, a pyramid hoop in one corner. There were only two patrons, both down the far end of the bar, chatting quietly to each other.  
  
He found Lee behind the bar, his back turned, wiping down bottles of alcohol with a cloth. “You actually work here?” he asked, sitting down on a stool.  
  
His son spun to face him. “Yeah. Gotta’ keep the cover up, you know? And it’s actually pretty relaxing, considering what I’m normally doing.” Then he placed the bottle he was holding down with the rest and asked, “Drink?”  
  
“Beer’ll do. Work to do tonight.”  
  
Nodding, Lee poured him a beer from the tap with ease and then placed it in front of him. “Yeah, Kara and I will head out in about an hour. Everything’s ready to go and we’ll meet the rest of the team there.”  
  
Bill glanced around. “Should we be talking about this here?”  
  
“It’s fine. The Agency owns this bar. Only agents come in. The occasional passer-by, but they’re watched closely and they don’t tend to stay for long. The atmosphere in here’s pretty closed off, people pick up on that, it makes them uncomfortable and they leave.”  
  
Nodding in understanding, Bill changed the subject. “Kara seems to be doing well.”  
  
Lee agreed, “She is. It wasn’t easy for her, after Zak died, she had a lot of trouble coping but she’s doing good now. She loves the job. She gets a kick out of all the dradis ghost stuff.”  
  
“And what about you? You obviously like the work,” Bill commented.  
  
“Yeah, I do. I love it,” the boy told him, using his cloth to wipe down the bar.   
  
Hesitating, Bill finally started to say what he’d been trying to since he’d run into Lee again at the amusement park. “I wanted to tell you, son …”  
  
When he trailed off, struggling for the words, Lee held up a hand to forestall him. “Don’t, Dad. Just … don’t.”  
  
The resistance seemed to give Bill the boost he needed to actually say it all. “No, I want to tell you. You’ve got an op tonight, it’ll be dangerous. I don’t want you going into that thinking … I can’t stop you from being angry at me, Lee. I can’t stop you from hating me. But I want you to know that … I’m proud of you, son.”  
  
Anger was not the effect Bill had desired. Lee leaned in close and asked harshly, “And were you proud of me when I gave up my wings?”  
  
“I was disappointed,” Bill admitted honestly.  
  
His son snorted. “Of course you were. ‘A man’s not a man until he wears the wings of a viper pilot.’”  
  
“I was disappointed because I thought you were throwing away a promising career, a worthwhile lifestyle, to pour drinks in a bar, Lee. I know the truth now. You’re doing good work. And I’m proud of you.”  
  
“And what if I wasn’t, Dad? What if I was just pouring drinks, but I was happy. Would you still be proud of me?” Lee countered.  
  
Staying truthful, Bill told him, “I would have been disappointed. But if you were truly content in your life, I would have dealt with it. And I’ve always been proud of you, Lee.”  
  
With that, he took a long draw of his drink, threw some money on the bar, then said, “Don’t forget that, son.”   
  
He was lucky enough to catch another agent heading into the storeroom to lead him back to the facility as he left. He’d said what he wanted to say, but it was becoming increasingly clearer that his relationship with Lee would need far more than proclamations. It would need patience and time.   
  
Bill was willing to wait and keep trying.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Roslin sat on the couch in her quarters, her gaze distant, looking straight through the blank wall her eyes were aimed at. A thousand thoughts, too many memories, were flushing through her mind.   
  
She’d dealt with the cancer once before. Cottle had caught it early in her yearly physical. It had been small, but it had also been terrifying. Once it was out, she’d pushed all thoughts of it from her mind. _Get it done and move on_ , her father had often said.   
  
The next year, when it had been time to see her doctor, she’d allow him the standard exam, but had managed to deflect any attempt to check for cancer in her breasts. It was done and she had moved on. No need to return to that.   
  
Somehow her crushing fear had helped her convince herself she was immune to it, she wouldn’t get it again. How very wrong she was. And therein lay her current fears. Even if she were to beat it this time, if the surgeon Cottle had talked about could remove it and free her from it, it might just come back again.   
  
And again and again and again until it killed her, slowly, painfully. Until it ripped her to shreds and degraded her body to the point where she wouldn’t even be able to recognize herself. Until she was praying for death.   
  
Like her mother.   
  
She wouldn’t die like that. She’d mix herself a lethal cocktail before she allowed that to happen. She wouldn’t slip away piece by piece. She wouldn’t waltz with death every day for months or years. She wouldn’t burden her family the same way she’d been burdened watching her mother die.   
  
Laura snorted at the thought. Family. Well, she didn’t even really have to consider that, did she? No family. Those she’d been born with were all dead already and she’d never taken the time to make her own.   
  
Except for the young man beside her.   
  
Billy sat silently, his jaw clenched in an effort to keep his tears at bay, his eyes as distant as hers had been before she’d focused on him. Reaching out, Laura placed her hand over the fist he had clenched on his knee.   
  
His desperate eyes turned towards her and she tried to convince him, “It’ll be alright.” But Billy was too observant, knew her too well and she knew the lie was as bitter in his ears as it was on her tongue.   
  
He shook his head, opened his mouth, then closed it again. With a deep sigh, he almost pleaded, “You have to have the surgery.”  
  
And she would, when she had time. For him, if for no one else. Billy had already lost one mother, she wouldn’t force him to grieve for another without even attempting what she could.   
  
She’d have the surgery. She’d do what the doctor told her to afterwards. But if it failed … diloxin was a cure that was worse than the disease itself. She’d seen exactly what the poison did and she would not take it in an attempt to save her life. She’d rather be recognizable when her body was found.   
  
Squeezing his hand in comfort, she promised quietly, “I will, Billy.”  
  
“You can’t put it off. You can’t wait until it’s too late. You have to do what the doctors tell you when they tell you, you can’t - -“   
  
The panic in his voice made her chest tighten. She cut him off by moving closer and placing her arm around his shoulders, directing his head down to rest against her.   
  
”Ssh. I will. I promise I will.”  
  
He was silent for a long moment before he advised her, “You should tell Chief Adama. He’ll have to handle things while you’re recovering.”   
  
Gods, she loved his optimism. Using _recovering_ , instead of _dying_ , or _sick_. Again, she promised, “I will,” and held him just a little tighter.

 


	11. The Best Laid Plans

Bill found Roslin in the briefing room, sitting alone in the dim lighting, two rows back from the front. Her head was back on the chair and her eyes were closed. He made his way in and slumped into the seat beside her, noticing for the first time that a map of Baltar’s compound was being projected onto the screen at the front of the room.  
  
She opened her eyes, lifted her head and gave a small smile when he sighed, asking him quietly, “Rough day?”  
  
He’d had to deal with Saul’s persistent questions in the morning. Which had been worsened by Ellen’s renewed presence by his friend’s side; he really had not missed her. Both of them had started on the ambrosia early.  
  
Then he’d spent an hour or so sorting a few things in his office (like the box of books he’d brought down with him) and putting together a bed that a few young agents had delivered from a storage area and finding the right place in the bedroom for it.  
  
His conversation with Lee had gone about as well as a plane crash and he still had no clue where they stood. Then he’d given himself a thumping headache pouring over the files Roslin had left in his office, which he’d discovered were basically a crash course in the Agency and its history.  
  
“You could say that,” was all he said, and then looked at her. Considering she looked about how he felt, her face drawn and a touch too pale than what he’d become accustomed to, with a dark shade beneath her eyes, he tossed the question back at her. “Rough day?”   
  
She gave a light laugh, dropping her head back on the chair and parroting his response. “You could say that. And I’ve a feeling it’s about to get a whole lot worse.”  
  
“I’ve a feeling I should be worried about your feeling,” he murmured, glancing up at the clock that hung above the podium. Nearly midnight, the designated time for the local’s to begin their breach of the compound.  
  
“They’re usually accurate,” she claimed. She lifted her head again, shaking it while she admitted, “It’s not a good feeling, Bill. I don’t know what it is, the plan is sound, but I just get the sense that something is … off about it.”  
  
He looked at her, saw how serious she was and offered, “It’s not too late to abort.”  
  
“No. Lee was right the other day when he said we need to move fast. We don’t have time to waste. It’s just a feeling.” Then she told him, “I’ve had a tech patch the ground team’s communications into the speakers in here. We’ll be able to hear everything they’re saying.”  
  
“Have you talked to them, yet?”  
  
“Kara called when she and Lee got to the safe house,” she told him. “I told them about my bad feeling, instructed them to be extra careful and then wished them good hunting. You can contact them again, if you want.”  
  
He shook his head. “No. Seems like you covered all the bases.”  
  
And then they both looked up at the clock again. Not even ten minutes to go. Roslin lightly touched his arm, whispering, “I hate this part.”  
  
“The op?” he asked.  
  
She shook her head. “No. Waiting for it all to go down.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
As if guided by the hand of Hades himself, the night was going to hell. Everything had hinged on their agent on the inside shutting down the generator, thus removing the security system from play.   
  
_What the frak happened?_ Lee wondered as he dove for cover behind a stack of what looked like military issue containers, Kara sliding in beside him. _Is she dead?_ he thought briefly of the agent, his stomach churning at the thought. _Captured? Did she not get the message?_  
  
She must have. They’d received confirmation from her. They wouldn’t have even attempted to go in if she hadn’t responded. But that left the other two alternatives, and he didn’t like them at all.  
  
Only a few minutes before, they’d lay in the woods on the edge of the field, watching the compound and counting down the seconds. The mark had arrived, the lights had stayed on, and, despite the hiccup, the cavalry had rolled on in.   
  
Through binoculars, Lee had watched the front gate, seen the local security forces drive a truck built for ramming straight through the fence, about two dozen of their officers flying out of the back of it when it came to a screeching halt.  
  
“This is wrong. Why aren’t the lights shutting off?” Kara had whispered when the siren’s inside the compound started screaming. Women had poured out of the buildings, armed to the teeth, and started firing. “What do we do, Lee?”  
  
“We lose our invisibility,” he’d whispered back. Unable to contact either of his superiors, he made a decision on the ground. “We’ll trip the motion sensors, but hopefully they’re too busy to notice. We follow the plan.” Then he’d tapped the headset he was wearing so the other three agents, clustered about fifteen meters away from them, could hear, “Comm. stays open, safety’s off. Let’s move in.”  
  
They’d barely cut through the fence when a few cultists had came around a corner and started firing at them.   
  
Kara rose from their cover and fired off a burst, then dropped back beside him to replace her clip. “Frak me. When the old lady has a feeling, she really has a frakking feeling, don’t she?”  
  
“We’ve got to move forward,” Lee murmured to her.  
  
Without even needing to voice a strategy – they’d watched each others backs long enough that vocal communication was often unnecessary – Kara nodded, rose up again and shot out another burst. Lee used the cover fire to push himself out from behind the crates and forward to another pile.  
  
Then they switched off, him firing, her running. A moment later she was beside him again. He rose, fired, and was able to verify he’d taken one of them down before he was on the ground again, a neat line of bullets slamming into the crates they’d just come from.  
  
“Frak, Farmer,” Kara cursed and Lee turned back to where he knew the other team was.   
  
Jammer and Duck were still behind cover, popping up every now and then to shoot, but Farmer was on the ground, out in the open. Lee watched with frustration as Kara skirted out from behind their cover towards her.  
  
He swore violently and then stood, walking straight towards his targets, keeping up a steady stream of gunfire. Behind him, from the sounds of it, Jammer was following his lead, covering the girls while Kara pulled the injured agent back to shelter, Duck hurrying to her side.  
  
By the time she was safe though, they’d managed to take down their remaining targets.   
  
It felt like a frakking war zone to Lee. He could hear the gunfire at the front of the compound, the occasional explosion from grenades, but he pushed it all out his mind and hurried over to crouch beside his partner.  
  
“Not too bad,” Kara murmured reassuringly even as blood rushed through her fingers while she tried to compress the wound on the other woman’s side. “On your feet in no time, Nor.”  
  
A moment’s thought and then Lee asked, “Think you can move, Agent?”  
  
“Frakkin’ hurts like frak, sir. But yeah, I think I might be able to.”  
  
Lee nodded. “Good. Then get off your ass. Duck, take her back to cover. Call for the emergency extraction and try to stop the blood while you wait for them.” Then he looked at Starbuck and Jammer. “Us three are going weasel hunting. We’ve come too far to let Baltar and his girlfriend get away now.”  
  
They helped Farmer to her feet and then watched their backs until her and Duck were out of the gate. With a shared nod, they headed for the building. Only to be thoroughly disappointed when they came face to face with another woman.  
  
All three raised their weapons, but she just raised her hands and clearly stated, “I’m hot for teacher.”  
  
The designated code that allowed one agent to identify another, an inside joke about the fact that their boss, the Director, had a doctorate in education.   
  
“Baltar?” Lee demanded.  
  
She shook her head. “They’re gone.” And that was all Kara and Lee needed to know.  
  
 _What the frak happened?_ Lee wondered again as he, his partner, and the other agents hurried for the extraction point.

 


	12. A Question Of Morals

Bill had been too wired to sleep. He’d felt utterly useless, sitting in the briefing room listening to the mission go horribly wrong. When the chatter had cut out after Lee and Kara and the other agents made it to the extraction point, he’d headed for the gym, stripped down to his singlet and boxers and pounded into a punching bag until his fists were numb.  
  
It had taken Billy three tries to break through to him on the phone in the gym. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d heard the ringing and the call over the comm. system, but he was so focused on beating the crap out of the bag that it took him a minute to focus.  
  
He’d snapped at Billy, regretted it immediately, apologized and then was told that the Director wished to see him. Ripping the tape off his hands, he balled his clothes under his arm and headed straight for her office.  
  
He found her on her couch. Her feet tucked up under her, a glass of green alcohol in her hand, and a despondent look on her face. If she was surprised by his state – undressed, disheveled and covered in sweat – she didn’t show it.   
  
“Agent Farmer is dead,” she murmured, meeting his eyes as he dropped in an exhausted heap across from her. “Duck got her back to the extraction point, carried her the last forty feet, but she was too far gone by the time the medics arrived. They think the bullet pierced her liver. Doctor Cottle will do an autopsy once her body arrives.”  
  
Bill sighed, feeling the knowledge settle heavy in his chest. He’d planned this. He’d sent those kids in there. And now one of them wasn’t coming back alive. He ran a hand through his hair and asked, “Family?”  
  
“A sister on Tauron,” Roslin said quietly. “Her cover was at our construction holding. An agent there has been dispatched to inform her. The doctor’s mocking up a death certificate. She’ll be told it was a work-site accident and compensated for her loss.”  
  
Then she dropped her legs, leaned forward and swore. “Frak. I should have called it off.”  
  
“It was a gut feeling, Laura,” he said, equally as quiet. “You couldn’t have known for sure. And both you and Lee were right, this couldn’t be put off.”  
  
“Hurrying into it didn’t help one frakking bit,” she said angrily. “It was a complete waste. We didn’t get Baltar or the Cylon.”  
  
“Any idea’s on that? How’d they get out so quickly? Where’d they go?”  
  
After a long sip of her drink, she shook her head. “How’d they get out? No idea. The police will do a complete sweep of the compound. Justin Hughes will forward their reports to me. Who knows? Maybe they had a getaway tunnel or something. Where’d they go? It’s probably a good thing I don’t know. If I did, I’d have a team there with orders to shoot on sight. What a frakking waste.”  
  
They were silent together for a long time and then she told him, “The team is on their way back. I’ll let them sleep it off, brief in the morning. It’ll give us all a chance to clear our heads. You should probably get some sleep.”  
  
Bill stood up. “So should you.” And then he headed for the door.  
  
As he was about to leave, she called out, “Bill?” And when he turned to her, she gave him a half-hearted smile. “Nice boxers.”  
  
His laugh as he exited was equally as lackluster.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
There were eight of them in the room, seated around Roslin’s coffee table. The one they called Jammer, James Lyman, paced restlessly. The young agent they called Duck, Tucker Clellan, had his head in his hands the whole time. Starbuck sat beside him, staring aimlessly into space, patting him on the back occasionally.   
  
The insider, Tory Foster, was across from them, her arms crossed and her foot tapping. Lee was standing, going through his recollection of events formally. An officer giving his superiors a report.   
  
Bill sat beside Laura, taking it all in and her young aide stood silently behind her, taking notes.   
  
“Agent Foster,” Bill started when Lee had sat down. “Would you mind telling us what happened on your end?” He kept all accusation out of his tone.  
  
“I’m so sorry, sir, ma’am,” she started. “I couldn’t shut it all down. One of the cultists, a particular woman, has always been suspicious of me. She was following me last night and as soon as I made for the security room, she and several others surrounded me.   
  
“They were calling for Doctor Baltar when the op began and after smacking me in the face with the butt of a rifle,” she indicated a sharp slice on her cheek, “they left to join the fight. I suppose they thought I was unconscious. I probably should have shut down security then, but with all the commotion, I was worried the doctor would get away, so I went to find him instead. Only, I couldn’t.”  
  
Bill nodded slowly, listening to her words and trying to picture the scenario she was describing. “You were closest to these people. Any idea where they might have went?”  
  
She shook her head. “No, sir. Since I’ve been there, Doctor Baltar has never before left the compound. I don’t know of anywhere he might have run to.”  
  
“How’d they get out?” Lee questioned her. Again she shook her head.  
  
There was a moment of silence and Bill looked around, noting that Billy was looking at Roslin, seeming to expect something, but that her brow was furrowed and her gaze distracted.  
  
The aide spoke up after a moment, “Justin Hughes called the Director this morning. They had a hiding place, the locals almost missed it. Hughes is sure they waited in there during the whole thing, bided their time and made a quick exit when they could leave unseen.”  
  
Kara’s head snapped up. “They were still there? They were still there when we left? Frak me.”  
  
Laura let it pass, but Bill shot her a brief look for her informality. This was a formal briefing after all. Then he too, let it slide. Emotions were high this morning and he was new. Maybe that was how they always did things.  
  
Then Bill took a closer look at her and decided that Laura probably hadn’t even heard Kara. Her eyes were completely focused on Foster, her stare penetrating, calculating. Then softly, she said, “Tory?” When the younger woman’s eyes looked up, she went on, “Is there something you’re itching to tell us? You can’t seem to sit still.”  
  
Bill refocused on the dark-haired girl and sure enough, her hands were wringing, her foot kept tapping and her eyes were shooting all around the room.  
  
She gave a meek, “No, ma’am.”  
  
Laura kept studying her, the same as everyone in the room was now doing. And then, still quiet, asked, “Why are you lying to me, Tory?”  
  
A beat’s silence and then things quickly spun out of control. Duck dove across the coffee table and before anyone could react, slammed the other agent across the face with his clenched fist.   
  
“You bitch!” he screamed. “You sold us out, didn’t you? You frakking bitch! Nora is dead! My Nora is dead! I’m gonna’ kill you!”  
  
It took both Jammer and Lee to pull him off her, but by the time they did, her face was a bloody mess. Unsteadily, she stood and Bill put his own body between hers and the furious young man.   
  
Laura walked up to her, slowly. “Is he right, Tory? Did you warn them? Did you betray us?”  
  
Foster’s eyes flashed. “Did I betray you?” she spat, blood speckling her teeth. “You betrayed me! ‘I don’t care if you have to get on your knees to pray, or just get on your knees.’ Sound familiar? Those were my instructions. You sent me in there to whore myself and you know what? I didn’t mind it. In fact, I loved it. I love him!”  
  
It was almost indistinguishable really, the difference between Laura Roslin normally and Laura Roslin in a towering rage. She didn’t clench her fists. She didn’t glare. She didn’t yell or curse.  
  
She stood before the agent who had cost another of her people their lives for nothing, her frame just a touch more tense than usual. It was her eyes that spoke though and Bill was thoroughly thankful he wasn’t under that gaze. A slight narrowing of the eyes; it was hard, unblinking. Fire and ice all at once.  
  
The carefully controlled fury was so terrifying that the girl actually cowered away from her. Bill resisted the urge to do the same, observing her in this state even as he battled with his own anger.   
  
Roslin’s voice was just as quiet as it had been, but now it sounded lethal. She couldn’t have had more of an effect if she’d screamed. “You love him? One of my agents is dead because you love him?”  
  
Then she was silent for a moment, and the whole room was equally as silent, until she said, “It’s my own fault really. You don’t even know what you’ve done. What you’ve let escape. I played my cards too close to my chest and now we’ll all suffer for it. You fell in love with a maniac and a fellow agent has paid the price. But so will you.”  
  
Finally, her voice rose in volume. “Agent Apollo!” she snapped.  
  
Lee released his hold on Duck and made his way to Roslin’s side. “Madame Director?”  
  
“You, Jammer and Starbuck, escort this woman and Agent Clellan to the catacombs, somewhere out of the way. Then let him loose. If she survives his ire, call me.”  
  
Lee hesitated. “If she doesn’t?”  
  
“Leave her there.”  
  
Lee was still hesitating, but Starbuck and Jammer had easily grabbed Foster and started dragging her to the door.   
  
“He’ll kill her,” Lee whispered.  
  
“She won’t make it to nightfall either way, Agent Apollo. If he doesn’t kill her, I will. Let him vent his anger.” Then she turned to the younger Adama, laid a gentle hand on his arm and said, “You don’t have to watch. I know this is difficult for you, but there’s no other way. She’s a traitor and she knows too much. She’s dangerous. She could bring us all down.”  
  
Finally he nodded and followed Starbuck, helping her remove the screaming woman from Roslin’s office. When Tucker Clellan was at the door, she told him, “If you don’t want to kill her, Duck, that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be on your conscience. I’ll take care of it when you’re done.”

 

The young man just nodded at her and strode from the room. Billy nodded to her briefly, his face pale, and then left as well.   
  
Bill watched in an icy sort of horror as Roslin shook herself, took a few deep breaths, and then walked over to her desk, sitting down and pulling a report over to read through, calmly, as if she hadn’t just ended a young woman’s life.  
  
Four, maybe five minutes went past until she snapped, “Stop staring at me, Bill.”  
  
He couldn’t believe what she’d just ordered. What she was willingly condoning. This was why he’d had trouble signing onto the Agency in the first place. Situations like this. And not even a week into the job it had arose and he was completely unsettled.   
  
“Will you really do it? Kill her if he doesn’t?” he asked quietly, still standing in place, staring at her.  
  
She met his eyes. “Without hesitation.”  
  
“This is … this is an execution,” he stammered, his brow furrowing. “You’re executing that girl.”  
  
“What would you have me do?” she asked, putting aside her report and focusing on him completely. “We can’t lock her up indefinitely. She can’t be arrested and tried in a courtroom; like I said, she knows too much.”  
  
“So you’ll kill her to keep your secret?” he parried back, striding over to stand in front of her desk.  
  
She took her glasses off and rubbed at her eyes. “Yes, absolutely,” she admitted steadily. “But if it were just the secret I was worried about …” She looked up at him again. “She’s a traitor. We don’t deal lightly with them.”  
  
“So you’re going to kill her for what? Dereliction of duty? Because that’s all she’s done. She failed to perform her job.”  
  
Roslin rose, leaned her palms on the desk and glared at him. “And her negligence cost a young woman her life! She’s untrustworthy. She betrayed us all. We can’t do what we do if we can’t trust those around us!”  
  
Then she slumped back into her chair, all the fight seeming to drain out of her. She spoke softly, a broken edge to her voice, “Nora Farmer was twenty-five years old. She had wanted to be a pilot in the Fleet, but never passed the entrance exams. She wrote to her sister every week, faithfully. She never forgot her nephew’s birthday.  
  
“And she came to me, not even a week ago, and requested that she be taken out of the field after she and that young man, Tucker, Duck, were married so that they could start a family together.” She looked up at him with the saddest of smiles. “They were in love. The wedding was supposed to be in two months.”  
  
With a deep breath, she settled back into her firm role as director and went on. “Now it will never happen. He is heartbroken and will never truly recover from watching her die.   
  
“This entire mission was hinged on Tory Foster doing two simple things: shutting down the generator and keeping her mouth shut. She failed in both. Not because she couldn’t, but because she didn’t want to. And please remember that she confirmed she’d do as was asked of her, basically leading our people into a trap since she had no intention of following through.”  
  
When she looked back into his eyes again, he saw them soften just a bit. “I know this is distasteful for you, Chief Adama. Don’t think I like it any better. Yes, I am executing her. I’ll do it with my own hand if necessary. But don’t think I take any pleasure in it.”  
  
He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Just looked her over, sighed deeply, and then strode from the room. He was exhausted. Physically and emotionally wrung out. And even so, he had a whole day to face.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Lee stood in the doorway to the Director’s private rooms for a long while, his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. The night had been long and the day had been longer.   
  
After what he witnessed in the morning – forced himself to watch – he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep for a long time.  
  
She had her back to him, sitting at her kitchen counter, but he knew she knew he was there. How she did it was a secret she promised only to share when, her words, “you’re the Chief,” but Laura Roslin was constantly aware of her surroundings, even the shadows.   
  
“You should come in and sit down. Slouching like that will do nothing for your back ache.”  
  
Was it due to the life she’d led where it was necessary to know who was present with you or you’d die? Or was it a trick they taught all teachers in university? And how in the name of the Gods did she know he was slouching? Or that he had a back ache, for that matter?   
  
She never ceased to amaze him. He’d been in awe of her since the day they met. He wasn’t in love with her (maybe a little bit in love with the _idea_ of her) but he was sure he’d never met a more fascinating woman in his life.   
  
She was strong and sharp. She was cold and hard. She was warm and comforting. She was puzzling and contradicting, as complex as she was simple to understand. He’d known her for two years, she was his mentor and had let him closer than he was sure anybody else – save maybe Billy – was and yet she was an absolute mystery to him.  
  
Shuffling into the room, he headed for her, asking for perhaps the hundredth time, “How do you do that?”  
  
“I’ll teach you one day, I promise,” she said, like she always did, still not turning around. “Grab the box on your way past.”  
  
Stopping at the bookshelf, he removed a small wooden box from a shelf and brought it along with him. As he reached the counter he put it down and then rounded it into the kitchen, opening her fridge and helping himself to a beer.  
  
He was able to take a good look at her as he leaned back against the fridge, popped the top and took a sip. She had her head propped on her intertwined hands and her face was drawn, with dark bags under her eyes. When she met his gaze, he could read the struggle in her eyes.   
  
They just looked at each other for a minute, a world of understanding passing between them. He was guilty, she was sorry for it. He was struggling with his morals, she was relying heavily on hers to keep her going. Thoughts and dark emotions were shared and accepted.  
  
“It was necessary,” was all she said, her voice subdued, but her conviction strong.   
  
He nodded. “I know. But I can’t help but think if we’d tried harder, if we’d done things differently, if we’d really thought about it … there’s got to be a better way.”  
  
“Second guessing things won’t change what’s happened, Lee. It’ll just keep your mind preoccupied until it swallows you whole.”  
  
“I know that, too. Won’t stop me from doing it though.”  
  
She smiled at him. “Precisely what makes you such a good man. What makes you different from those we fight against. You question the difficult decisions, you feel guilty about them. Our enemies don’t.”  
  
He didn’t bring up that she wasn’t speaking in the plural, that _they_ weren’t questioning all that happened, just him. It scared him that despite how she struggled with her decisions and what came from them, she didn’t look back and dwell on it. He felt better knowing that it wasn’t an unconscious decision though; she didn’t just wave it off without really thinking about it, but instead forced herself to move on.  
  
“How do you live with it?” It was something he’d wanted to ask for a long time.   
  
“Not as easily as you might think. Though I hope you know I wrestle with the things I’ve done every day.” She shook her head and pulled the box close to her, reverently opening its lid, her face etched in sadness as she took in the contents.   
  
“The needs of the many, Lee,” she went on. “I comfort myself with the thought of them, the billions of innocent people who we strive to protect. Every time I begin to doubt what I’m doing, I think of them and remember why I do it. If my soul is the price that needs to be paid for their lives … it’s not really a question, is it?”  
  
That wasn’t really a question either, but Lee answered nonetheless. “No, it’s not. But if we sacrifice our souls, what makes us different from those we fight against?”  
  
“Intent is what makes us different; ours is to do good, theirs is not. And I don’t think I’ve sacrificed my soul. Tainted it beyond repair, yes, but it’s still there. It’s why I still do the things I do, and will until I die. That’s when I’ll pay for my sins.”  
  
The smile was grim as she said, “Then again, maybe I’m not all that different from them. Their souls are tainted too. They’ll be judged just as I will be. But I try not to focus on that. My job right now is to minimalize their damage and hasten their judgment.”  
  
Again, he noticed the pronouns she was using, _I_ and _my_ , one of the gentle ways she settled his disturbed thoughts, by taking the burden upon herself. Reminding him that she believed _his_ soul, despite the things he’d done, was pure. It lifted him at the same time that it depressed him.   
  
With a sigh, she reached into the box and pulled out a few slips of paper, shaking her head as she went through them. Then she dropped them back in and swallowed heavily, looking up at him and nodding.  
  
He didn’t even need to be told, moving for the notepad and pen near the phone, bringing them to her. They’d done this before, discussed morality and other deep subjects while she allowed him to share in this particular ritual of hers.   
  
He didn’t come for every one – it was deeply personal to her and he only intruded when he felt he needed it himself – but he’d been with her enough to know how it went.  
  
With a steady hand and sad eyes, she tore a strip of paper off the pad and, applying a level of care not many people witnessed in her, wrote Nora Farmer’s name on the slip. She held it up, taking a deep breath and releasing it on a long sigh, eyes shimmering behind her glasses.  
  
Meeting his gaze was all the prompt he needed to claim, “A gentle soul.”   
  
And Nora had been. She’d been willing to do what she needed to when it was necessary, but Lee would always remember her as a woman with a tender hand, a soft voice, a beautiful smile.   
  
Roslin just nodded and, with a tender hand of her own, placed the piece of paper in the box with the others. Then she surprised him, ripping off another piece and writing Tory Foster’s name on it.  
  
She answered his unspoken question as again, just as gently, that slip joined the rest. “Despite what she did, she was one of mine. And the purpose of this box is to remind me; of good people, of necessary sacrifices, of questionable decisions, of mistakes I hope to never repeat. At the very least, I’ll remember her for the lesson’s she’s taught me.”  
  
Thinking about it, Lee knew he would too.

 


	13. An Adequate Life

Bill had never seen the galley so full. Everyone in the facility was there and still it was as quiet as a tomb, the mood positively somber. As a funeral should be, he supposed. A ring of flowers was at the front of the room, candles flickering throughout them.  
  
A priestess read from the Sacred Scrolls and if he had wondered when he saw her name, Elosha, and job title on their list of employees as to what a secret organization needed with a religious woman, he had his answer.   
  
When she finished speaking, the Director herself rose and stood at the front of the congregation. From his position standing against the back wall, he could meet her eyes, but they didn’t stay on his long, flickering away as she started to speak.  
  
“Nora hadn’t been to temple in more years than she cared to admit, but she believed in the Gods, she believed in the words of Scripture. She believed them when they said not to fear death, because it is merely another beginning. She believed them when they said that the only thing to fear was an inadequate life.  
  
“So she lived her too brief time with us to the fullest. She laughed often, she was never afraid to try new things, and she took from each moment everything it could offer.”   
  
She took a step forward and placed her hand on Duck’s shoulder and when he lifted her head to look at her through his tears, she gave him a sad smile and said, “She loved with everything she had. And she was well loved in return.”  
  
Then she withdrew from the young man and continued, “When I send you into the field, I do so with the knowledge that you may not come back. It is not a light burden to carry. Nor is it light for you to go and perform your duties with that hanging over your heads. But you all do so for love of your Colonies and your fellow man. Nora did so. And I am proud to have known her for it.  
  
“I know many of you are thinking it, that she died for nothing. No, there was no result from the mission in which she was sacrificed. But Nora went on the op with the _spirit_ of making a difference. The yearning to do what’s right is what makes us different, better, than those we fight against.  
  
“Yes, she was taken from us too soon. But in the time she was here, she made a difference. More importantly, she strove to do good. And that alone deemed her life more than adequate.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Roslin entered his office without knocking. “Anything new?” he asked, watching as she shook her head in response, walked straight for the refreshment stand he’d made the time to stock, bypassed his cheap whiskey and poured herself a glass of ambrosia.   
  
They still had no idea where Baltar and his Cylon were. It’d been four days since they had raided the compound and it was beginning to get worrying.  
  
“I know you’re still upset with me,” she started, turning back to him after she’d downed half of what was in the glass. “You’re probably regretting your decision to sign on and writing up your resignation.”  
  
No, he wasn’t. He wanted at least to see this particular case out, catch the Cylon, before he seriously thought about that. And even then, knowing what he now did, he wasn’t sure he could walk away.   
  
But he wasn’t about to tell her that, still disturbed by what she’d done. She hadn’t needed to pull the trigger in the end. From what Starbuck had told him, Duck hadn’t even beaten Foster. He’d just wrapped his hands around her throat and watched as the life faded from her eyes.  
  
Roslin was still speaking, “But I need you to stay on for another week at least. Just to hold down the fort while I’m … out of commission.”  
  
“Planning a vacation?” he quipped.   
  
She gave him a grim smile. “What’s a vacation?” Then shook her head. “No, I’m scheduled for surgery tomorrow morning and the doctors think I’ll need a few days to recover at the very least.”  
  
That certainly caught his attention. He looked up at her worriedly. “Surgery?”  
  
Roslin took a breath, seeming to fortify herself for what she was about to say. “I have breast cancer. The tumor is still small enough … it hasn’t spread too far. They think they can remove it.”  
  
Bill stared at her for a long moment and then nodded slowly. “So not allergies then.”  
  
She laughed. “No.” And then she sat down in the chair across from him. “This is the second time I’ve had it. The first time, three years ago, they caught it early. I was lucky, it was tiny, Doctor Cottle was able to remove it himself.”   
  
“It’s bigger this time?”  
  
“Stage two. I skipped out on the breast exam during last years medical. It grew rapidly in size. That’s why they don’t want to wait any longer to go in and get it out, before it spreads.”  
  
He didn’t know what to say. Eventually stammered, “Well, that’s … that’s good, I suppose. They’ll get rid of it, you’ll be fine.”  
  
She just nodded, drained her glass and headed for the door. As quickly as possible, Bill rounded his desk and caught her wrist as she reached out to open it. “Can I get you anything? Can I do anything?”  
  
Roslin stared at him for a long moment and he couldn’t help but notice a faint blush rise on her face, then she shook her head. “Just take care of my agency while I’m out.”  
  
When she started to go again, he gripped her wrist tighter and turned her back towards him. “That wasn’t what you were thinking about,” he said quietly and when she looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, he smirked. “You aren’t the only one that can read people pretty well.”  
  
She gave him a tight smile and then shook her head. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”   
  
He wouldn’t let it go, if only because he’d never seen her blush, or anything of the sort before. “Tell me, Madame Director,” he ordered quietly.   
  
“Just …” Heat was rising in her cheeks, her eyes were refusing to meet his as she bit her lip and thought. Then she shook her wrist loose of his hold, reached up and, to Bill’s utter surprise, started undoing her blouse.  
  
His jaw dropped at the same time his eyes did.  
  
Three buttons down she stopped, took his hand, and before he could even begin to grasp what the hell was going on, he was copping a feel. The material of her bra brushed against his fingers as she wrapped his hand around her breast.  
  
She still wouldn’t look at him as she said quietly, “Technically this is sexual harassment. I am your boss, after all.” Then, reluctantly, she met his stunned gaze. “It’s just that, a man who wasn’t my doctor hasn’t touched it in … far too long and after tomorrow … it won’t ever be the same again.”  
  
“They’re taking it?” he asked, still quiet, suddenly absorbing her need, what she was asking of him, what she was _trusting_ him with. The realization moved him.  
  
Laura nodded. “Part of it,” she confirmed and then it fully hit her what was happening and she looked up at him, her expression positively mortified. “I’m so sorry, I - -“  
  
She went on mumbling apologies as she tried to withdraw his hand, but Bill wouldn’t let her, he caught the hand that was trying to chase his away with his free hand, backed her up against the door and told her, “Stop. I asked if I could do anything for you. I can do this. Let me do this.”  
  
The tears that came to her eyes that were barely contained took him off guard, but he covered it well and held his ground, and, after a long silent moment, she nodded and closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch.   
  
Trying to lighten the mood, he asked with a half-grin, “Can you please not call me by my title while I’ve got my hand on your boob?”  
  
A bubble of laughter burst from her lips and he smiled fully, pleased with himself. She gasped when he slid his fingers under her bra and he froze for a moment, wondering if he’d gone too far, but she didn’t say a word of protest and if he knew anything about this woman from their brief acquaintance it was that she would most definitely tell him off if he’d overstepped his bounds.  
  
His fingers curved around her – Gods, so warm – flesh and she sighed in satisfaction, almost melting into his touch. Again, he was stupidly happy with himself, but the grin abruptly left her face when he brushed against … something. His brow furrowing, Bill slid his fingers back towards what had caught his attention.   
  
She stiffened when he probed deeper into her breast and said, “It’s hard.”  
  
“It’s a tumor, Bill,” she stated quietly, as if that should explain to him why it was hard. It didn’t, he knew nothing about tumors, or cancer. But he’d sure as hell have Billy pull some information for him to read over tonight.  
  
He rubbed over the spot gently and she relaxed again, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment. Then she reached up and withdrew his hand, gripping it tightly in her own.  
  
She met his gaze with a grateful smile, and with tears still glistening in her eyes, whispered the most sincere, “Thank you,” he’d ever heard in his life.  
  
This time when she tried to leave the room, Bill let her go, staring after her, his mind abuzz and his hand still warm from its contact with her skin.

 


	14. Surgery

Billy was on one of the chairs in the corridor outside of Life Station, scribbling furiously on a report in his lap when Bill approached. Seeing him coming, the younger man shot to his feet.  
  
“Chief Adama,” he greeted. “I’m sorry, sir, if there’s something you need - -“  
  
Bill waved him back into his chair and sat down in the one beside him with a heavy sigh, asking, “Any word?”  
  
“Not yet, sir, no. As far as I know, she’s still in surgery.” The words were mumbled, quiet, but infused with a world of worry.  
  
“How long have you known the Director?” Bill asked quietly.  
  
Closing his file and pocketing his pen, Billy answered, “Since I was fourteen. Nine years, sir.”  
  
Bill was surprised, he’d thought maybe he’d been working for her for a few years, had somehow managed to get past a few of her defenses, but hadn’t even entertained the thought that Billy had known her since he was a child.  
  
“How’d you meet?”  
  
The younger man was silent for a long time and then, so softly Bill had to lean closer, he said, “We met the night my family was killed.”  
  
Curious, but regretting the line of questioning since he could see how difficult it was for Billy to think of, Bill stated, “I’m sorry,” and then let the quiet between them settle, knowing that if Roslin’s aide had more to say, if he wanted to tell Bill the story, he’d fill the silence with it.   
  
Which he did, after several minutes, starting hesitantly, but relaxing the more he spoke. “My father was a biologist. I don’t know what he did exactly – I’ve never looked at the files – but he worked for the government at the time.   
  
“One night my sisters and I were in their bedroom – I can’t even remember what we were doing – when there was a loud banging downstairs, on the front door.  
  
“There was yelling, my Dad and other men, then something smashed and my mother screamed. My sisters put me in their closet, behind all their clothes and made me promise not to move. They were older than me, seventeen, and I was so scared, I did what they told me to.   
  
“I could hear them run downstairs, I could hear more yelling, more screaming, and then there were these sounds – like pops – about six of them, and then it was quiet.”  
  
Gunshots, Bill knew. A pistol firing wasn’t a bang, more like a muffled popping sound. Still, he said nothing, not wanting to interrupt the quiet retelling.   
  
“Even when I heard the door slam closed, I stayed in the closet. I think I was in there for a few hours when I heard more people come into the house. I could hear them talking and shuffling around, footsteps getting closer. Found myself face to face with three armed men when the closet door opened.  
  
“I’d never been more terrified in my life. Of course, I didn’t know they were Agency.” He glanced at Bill and smiled abashedly, as if his frightened fourteen year old self should have known better.   
  
“I freaked out when they tried to get me out, so they stayed back, just kept an eye on me. Then the Director was there and she just sat down in the closet with me and talked soothingly until I flung myself at her.”  
  
His cheeks dusted with a light pink, he told Bill, “I clung to her and she just held me. She led me out of the house, made sure I didn’t see … them, my family … their bodies. I clung to her and sobbed and raged and screamed, and she just held me. Took me back to the facility – not this one, it was another one then – and kept holding me until I cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, she was still there, hadn’t let go.”  
  
Billy blinked and cleared his throat. “The men who came wanted my father’s help with something and they were murdered because he refused. That’s all I know. I can’t bring myself to look at the files.  
  
“I didn’t know it at the time, who they were and why they’d done what they did. I just knew the people I loved most were dead and I wasn’t. I also didn’t know at the time that protocol for situations like that dictated any surviving children, providing they knew nothing, be immediately handed over to family care. Since I didn’t have a family, I was supposed to be given to the state. But I wasn’t. The Director looked after me herself.”  
  
Bill didn’t miss the boy’s glance at the Life Station door, or how he clenched his fists until his knuckles were white. The concern in his features was obvious and now Bill truly understood why. The woman had become a mother to him, at a time when he needed one the most, and despite the fact that she certainly didn’t have to be.  
  
His opinion of Laura Roslin was changing daily with the things he learnt about her. She seemed an endless stream of surprises and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.   
  
The younger man went on, telling Bill, “I don’t know why she didn’t let me go. I’m just thankful for it. I don’t think I would have made it through that without her. She let me grieve, helped me get past it. She didn’t sympathize or pity me. She actually understood and gave me what I needed when I needed it. I can’t imagine what I’d ever do without her.”  
  
Another worried glance at the door. Bill put his hand on Billy’s shoulder and stated without a doubt, “She’s your family.”  
  
“Yes, sir, she is. The only family I have left.”  
  
Bill squeezed his shoulder. “Then you stay down here as long as you need to. I can fumble my way through for a bit on my own. And if I’m desperate, I know where to find you.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”  
  
Rising to his feet, Bill instructed, “Contact me the moment she’s out of surgery.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Laura Roslin was going to be fine. Or at least they hoped she was. She’d been out of surgery by lunch and both Doctor Cottle and the specialist he’d brought in seemed pleased with how things went. There would have to be more tests to see if they’d got it all, but they were both optimistic.  
  
Earlier in the evening Bill had actually been able to speak to her and had taken the brief moment to quietly tell her that all was well. She’d been completely out of it, moving in and out of unconsciousness, had blinked at him sleepily, smiled a little dopily, and then murmured something about cabins and clear water streams.  
  
Bill had just smiled back, squeezed her hand and left.   
  
Satisfied that Laura was okay, for now, Billy had been hovering around him most of the afternoon, keeping himself busy. Bill hated administrative work, and was surprised at how much Roslin had to do, considering she was actually the final authority for the organization.  
  
The kid was good though, pretty much anticipating any needs Bill had. He’d be reading through one report and need another to cross reference, and it would appear in front of him. His concentration and energy would start waning, and he’d find a cup of coffee at his elbow.  
  
“You got a home to go to?” Bill finally asked when the hour started getting late.  
  
“Yes, sir, I’ve got an apartment about a block from our tutoring agency.”  
  
Bill looked up at him. “We have a tutoring agency?”  
  
Billy smiled and explained, far cheerier and more animated now the Director was out of surgery, “One of our front businesses, sir. I do a few hours there a week, help a few kids with their reading and writing and math, that kind of thing, keep up appearances. It’s actually really enjoyable work.”  
  
“And let me guess: there’s an entrance to the catacombs in the basement?”  
  
“In the tutor’s bathroom, sir.”  
  
Bill just nodded, then stood from behind his desk, stretching out muscles that were too old to be hunched over paperwork all day. “Then go through the bathroom and go home, Billy. Let’s call it a night.”  
  
The young man hesitated and knowing what was keeping him from taking off, Bill said gently, “Check in on her before you go. If anything happens through the night, you’ll be the first person I call.”  
  
Relieved, Billy gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Chief.” Then he shuffled up a few papers and left the office.  
  
Bill headed into his quarters. Still too bare, but he’d managed to get a few things in there, some more books and a couch setting. He’d just sat down with a book, ready to unwind, when there was a knock on the door.  
  
He opened it, surprised to find Lee and Kara. He moved aside to let them in, saying, “I thought you two were out for the day.”  
  
“We were, but we got something,” Lee told him as they all converged on the couches.  
  
Bill raised his eyebrows in question and Kara explained, “We found the arms dealer, Leoben. Got an agent sitting on him. We thought we might bring the creep in, see if he can give us any idea where Baltar and his toaster might be.”  
  
There it was, the offer for Bill to make the first big decision at the Agency without the Director’s input and guidance. Would she do it? Drag the guy in and beat some information out of him?  
  
Thinking it over, Bill shook his head. “No. But keep a close eye on him. They may be laying low for a while, but she’s a Cylon, she won’t sit idle for long, and when they’re ready, they might just go to this guy for their stuff.”  
  
“Use him as bait,” Kara surmised, nodding.   
  
Lee agreed. “I’ll set up a watch rotation.” Then something on the coffee table caught his eye and he gave his father a very small smile. Small or not, Bill was unbelievably pleased to be on the receiving end of it.   
  
Lee said, “You got your badge, I see.”  
  
Bill smiled back. “Yeah, but I’m sure I’ll feel like a fraud using it. It’s identical to the Caprica City police’s. Billy said the only difference was the inscription.”  
  
“Instead of _‘Serving and Protecting the People’_ it says _‘For Good Men To Do Nothing,’_ you know, that old saying?” Kara stated.  
  
“ _’All that is necessary for evil to triumph,’_ ” Bill quoted. “Yeah, I know it.”  
  
The young woman grinned. “See? It’s not the same as the cop’s badges. If you were to look _really_ closely, and if you can read the language of Ancient Scripture, you can tell the difference.”  
  
Bill gave a gruff laugh, but his son just shrugged. “You get used to it. We don’t exist and we have to push our authority sometimes, the badge comes in handy.” Then he leaned back in the chair and asked his father, “How is the Director?”  
  
“She came through the surgery all right. The doctors say it went well. I was able to talk to her for a bit, but she wasn’t very lucid.”  
  
Starbuck looked worried. “Is she gonna’ be okay? I mean, did they get it all? Will it come back?”  
  
Bill laid a hand over hers. “They’ll need to do more tests to make sure it’s gone. Will it come back? I don’t know.”  
  
“The doctor’s good?” Lee asked quietly.  
  
“Cottle thinks so, says he’s supposed to be an excellent surgeon, knows what he’s doing.”  
  
Kara raised her eyebrows. “What’s his name? We can suss him out, make sure he’s never left scalpels in people and all that.”  
  
Bill laughed. “His name is Simon Teller, but that’s not necessary. You know he wouldn’t have been allowed down here if he hadn’t already been verified.”  
  
“So she’s going to be fine,” Lee breathed quietly, like he was trying to reassure himself of that fact and Bill once again wondered at the close bond between him and Roslin.  
  
The three sat around in silence for a long moment and then Lee sighed heavily and got to his feet. “Come on, Kara, we’ll get that rotation done so we can finally get some sleep.” He looked at his father. “I’ll have a copy of it on your desk in the morning.”  
  
Bill nodded and saw them to the door.

 


	15. Code Black

Saul looked at his friend over the top of his glass. The man looked exhausted. After taking a long draw of his drink, Saul put it on the bar and grinned slyly. When Bill noticed, Tigh saw him tense and almost laughed out loud. He knew what was coming.  
  
“So,” he began, “You’re looking a bit worn out, old man. That sexy lady friend of yours been keeping you up late at night?”  
  
He expected a glare and a quick rebuttal. He thought maybe he’d even get a smug smile in return, maybe some details, though Bill had never really been the type to kiss and tell. What he didn’t expect was for a look of heavy worry to cross his friend’s face.  
  
Straightening and looking at Bill more closely, he asked insensitively, “Don’t tell me you’ve frakked it up already!”  
  
“No,” Bill said quietly.  
  
“Bill?” Concerned now. “What’s going on?”  
  
Adama ran a hand over his face, drained the last of his whiskey and then said, “She’s in hospital. Just had surgery.”  
  
“Something happen to her? She get in an accident or something? She looked fine the other day.”  
  
“She has – had – breast cancer.”  
  
He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. Staring at his friend in shock for a moment, he slowly shook his head. “Damn. She gonna’ be okay?”  
  
Bill shrugged. “Hope so. Doctors seem to think so.”  
  
“And what about you and her? I mean … you haven’t known her that long, Bill. You shouldn’t be expected to nurse her back to health or anything.”  
  
A warning, “Saul.”  
  
Tigh ignored it. “I know you’ve got a hell of a sense of loyalty and duty and all that crap but … I mean if she’s fine, that’s great, but you’re not serious about her or anything, you don’t have to take care of her.”  
  
“And if I want to?” Bill snapped, and then sighed. “Sorry. Just been a long couple of days. A long week, really. Look, the thing about me and Laura … the thing is … I know you’ve already told Ellen about my new relationship, and I want you to keep her thinking that way, but Laura and I, we’re not like that. Like what you assumed we are.”  
  
A pause as he absorbed before Saul asked in disbelief, “You’re not frakking her!? Geez, Bill, a woman like that, with that pretty smile and those frakkin’ legs! What is wrong with you man?”  
  
“Remember that job I told you about? That card that Nag gave me?” Saul nodded. “Well, I took it. And she’s my boss.”  
  
Saul sat back, staring at his friend for a moment, then blew out a long breath. He had a dozen or so questions in his mind, but settled on, “What kind of work did it turn out to be?”  
  
“The kind I can’t tell you about.”  
  
“Ah,” Saul said, picking up his glass and swirling the liquid around the bottom. “I remember that kind of work. And Laura’s your boss. So you and her aren’t …?”  
  
Bill shook his head. “No. It’s just a cover we’re keeping. That’s why I want you to make sure Ellen thinks it’s still like that. In fact,” he chuckled a bit, “I suggested a double date. When she’s out of hospital.”  
  
“Me and Ellen, you and Laura? Why do I get the feeling those two won’t exactly hit it off?”  
  
Laughing, Bill said, “That’s why I suggested it. Be fun to watch.”  
  
Saul joined him, almost giggling. “Maybe it’ll be so bad they’ll get in a bitch fight. I might like that. So if you are telling me now, about you two, why didn’t you just tell me when I met her?”  
  
“Complicated. She likes to keep her secrets. And I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to her about it yet, but …” Bill trailed off as the bartender filled his glass.  
  
Once the guy was gone, Saul prompted, “But?”  
  
“You said you wanted to stay out of Ellen’s hair. You could use the boat as a cover, tell her you’re fixing it up.”  
  
Saul took a minute to realize what he was saying. “You offering me a job?”  
  
“Laura has to approve it. But this group, they’re looking for an instructor, to train their people in combat techniques and that. I thought you might be good at it. Thought you might enjoy getting to scream at kids again.” Then his best friend smirked at him. “You did say that was the only thing us old bastards were good for, yelling at kids while waiting to die, or something like that.”  
  
Running a hand over his head – absently eyeing Bill’s full, thick hair enviously as his mind turned over the suggestion – Saul sighed. “I have been bored out of my frakkin’ mind. Miss being involved in crap …”  
  
Bill met his eyes. “You won’t be able to tell Ellen anything about it. I mean it, Saul. You won’t be able to tell anyone about it. You’ll have to watch yourself.”  
  
“You know I don’t run my mouth off when I shouldn’t, Bill,” he grumped, slightly offended. “I can keep a secret. Hell, I am keeping secrets, a whole battlestar full of the frakkin’ things.”  
  
His old friend grasped his shoulder and smiled. “I know. That’s exactly what I told Laura. I’ll talk to her more about it when she’s better. You’re the right man for the job, so take some time and think about it.”  
  
He would. He was, mostly, enjoying being retired, but the days were getting long and dry. Ellen was off, doing whatever she did during the day, and he was going stir crazy. Much how he knew Bill had felt a couple of weeks ago.  
  
And he had to admit, yelling at the young folk did hold an awful lot of appeal.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Jack Cottle reefed open the bottom drawer on his desk, shuffled through it and then cursed under his breath. He could have sworn he had an extra packet of cigarettes in there. He checked his filing cabinet. A bottle of Spice, but no frakking smokes.   
  
He huffed in annoyance. Some pilfering bastard probably stole them. Or he’d smoked them. No, someone must have nicked them, he was sure they’d been there the day before. Maybe he could scare the crap out of a junior agent with a really big needle, convince them to do a run to the surface for him.  
  
Deciding he’d better keep himself busy until he couldn’t handle the withdrawal anymore – Lords of Kobol have mercy, it had been an hour already – he left his office.   
  
He had exactly three patients at the moment: a young man who’s partner had been a little overzealous in their sparring session and had given him a concussion, another young man, a rook, who’d broken his leg at the training center, and of course, his primary concern, Laura Roslin.  
  
He remembered clearly the day they met. The status green – non-life threatening injury – call coming through, telling them to prepare for casualties, the call ahead by the field medics about an agent who shielded a little girl caught in crossfire and took a bullet to the shoulder for her troubles.  
  
He’d only been with the Agency for a month, having given years to the Fleet after they’d sent him through med school, and had been ‘lucky’ enough to be the doctor on call that day.  
  
She’d been cursing up a storm when she’d been brought in, words that had almost made Jack blush and certainly left the two agents that followed behind her, one of them a former marine, with red faces.  
  
Jack had taken over from the medics, given her a local anesthetic, told her to sit the hell still and went to work removing the bullet. She’d been a fiery one and he’d had to bite back a laugh – it wouldn’t do for his gruff guy image – when she’d threatened to shove the bullet up his nose.  
  
Fifteen years, and Laura Roslin hadn’t changed all that much. She was still fiery, but now she had a terrifying control over herself that Jack knew scared the life out of most people. He reveled in the fact that he could still make her lose it, that no one else in the facility could make her swear the way he did.   
  
The playing field was even though. No one in the facility could make him chain smoke quite the way she could. No doubts he loved the girl – and in his mind, that’s what she would always be, a girl, twenty years his junior – so much so that if he’d had daughters … damn the Lords themselves, he prayed they would have never been like her.   
  
His daughters would have been sweet, little angels who did exactly what he told them. Not stubborn, domineering wretches who knew how to kill a man two dozen different ways with their bare hands.  
  
She amused the crap out of him when she was on pain meds, so it was with a skip in his step that he pulled back the curtain to enter the area they had her in. And was surprised by the sight of his surgical consult already there.  
  
“Jack,” Simon greeted, nodding over his shoulder at him as he injected something into Roslin’s IV. “She was getting restless, moving about too much. I was worried she’d pull her stitches, I’m just slipping her a light sedative to calm her down.”  
  
Teetering on seventy, Jack had been a doctor for almost half a century, and that was maybe why he was able to recognize the small glass vial by the other doctor so easily. Panic welled up in him and he started moving closer.  
  
“That’s morpha, Simon, she’s already - -“  
  
He didn’t see the blow coming. The bedpan lanced off his face and sent him flying across the other side of the room, his head spinning. He pulled himself into a sitting position, blinked the stunned haze out of his eyes, and saw Simon turn back to the IV.  
  
“Ishay!” Cottle yelled at the top of his lungs. She must have been close by, for she barreled through the curtain within a moment, but before she could properly take in the scene, he ordered, “Code Black! Call a frakking Code Black!”  
  
She didn’t hesitate, bolting over to the phone on the wall. He didn’t watch her, focused on reaching behind him, his hand guided by his keen memory of his infirmary’s layout. He ripped open the third drawer in the cabinet, grabbed a syringe, and then rifled through the top drawer, finally finding what he wanted.   
  
As he filled the needle, he turned back around, only to find Simon right in front of him, smacking him across the face again. Jack sprawled on the ground, but kept a firm hold of the syringe, then spun onto his back and faced the figure looming over him.  
  
 _Frakking surgeons,_ he thought as he tasted blood in his mouth.

 


	16. Intruder Alert

Marcus Venner had been with the Agency for a year and had never heard a Code Black. He didn’t think it had ever happened before, a facility wide call that announced the presence of an intruder. The Agency base of operations was long believed impenetrable.   
  
But as he sat at his station, thinking over his bets for the next week’s big pyramid final, he was almost startled out of his chair by the shaky, frantic call of, “Code Black, Code Black! Life Station, Code Black!”  
  
He was already running as it repeated. He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave his station, but he was at the entrance just down the hall from Life Station, which meant he was probably the closest armed agent.  
  
He sprinted down the hall, heard boots thumping behind him, glanced back to see two, maybe three other agents, all of them running towards the medical area.  
  
When he slid into Life Station it only took him a second to find the trouble, could hear the yelling coming from behind a nearby curtain, and with his gun in his hand he made his way through and took in the scene.  
  
A man was slumped on the floor. Doctor Cottle and that pretty nurse with the nice accent were leaning over a gurney, two other medical aides hovering nearby. Cottle had blood running down his chin and he was the one yelling, throwing orders at his nurse. And on the bed they were focused on was the Director.  
  
“Frak me, she’s seizing!” Cottle yelled. “Ishay, help me roll her!”  
  
For a long moment, Venner stood there, staring, helpless, and knew that the agents that had pounded in behind him were doing the same thing. Then Cottle glanced back at them and glared.  
  
He thrust a finger towards the man on the ground and barked, “He’s got enough tranq in him to keep him out for the rest of the day, but I suggest you gentlemen drag him to a cell. Or just shoot him. I don’t care, just get him out of my sickbay!”  
  
With a jerky nod, Marcus did as he was told, moving over to the unconscious man in the white lab coat, rolling him onto his back.  
  
“What’d he do?” one of the other agents asked.  
  
Cottle hollered another order at an aide, who hurriedly complied, and then took a moment to answer the question. “He tried to kill the Director.” Then he was once again focused on ensuring that the statement didn’t change from an attempt to a confirmation of death.  
  
The agents around him shared a glance and then, overtly rough, they tossed him back onto his face, pulled his wrists behind his back and cuffed him, tightly. Then they did exactly as they were told and dragged the frakker all the way to a cell.   
  
If he got slammed around a bit too much on the way, that was just fine. None of them took kindly to people frakking with the old lady.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Bill paced. Lee glared at the ground. Billy twitched and fidgeted. Kara put a hand over one of his to try and settle him as she watched Bill walk up and down the hall. They were all worried. A Code Black had been called, in the main facility. It was almost incomprehensible.  
  
Worse, the intruder, who was the same doctor they had been ready to praise for perhaps saving Director Roslin’s life by removing her tumor, had tried to kill her. They didn’t know much about what had happened yet. Doctor Cottle was still too busy to fill them in.  
  
He was in a cell now, and all of them, with the exemption of maybe Billy, who didn’t have a violent bone in his body, were keeping themselves busy waiting for an update so that they didn’t slip over to the cells and beat the crap out of the guy.  
  
After what seemed like forever, Cottle came out of the doorway and looked at them all. Instinctively, he reached for his pocket and then cursed when he found it was empty. He looked exhausted, his lip was swollen and there was dried blood on his chin.  
  
Kara, Billy and Lee bounded to their feet. Bill stopped his pacing and met the Chief Medical Agent’s eyes. “Well?” the elder Adama demanded.  
  
“She should be fine. The bastard overdosed her on morpha. I’ve counteracted the poison, got her on an IV for fluids. She seized up, pulled a few stitches. I’ve patched them up.”  
  
“What happened, Doc?” Kara asked.  
  
Cottle shook his head. “When I went in, he tried to tell me he was giving her a sedative, said she’d been restless, but I saw it was morpha. She was already hopped up on enough of the stuff, anymore and … well, overdose, obviously. When I tried to stop him, he smacked me with a frakkin’ bedpan.”  
  
He reached up and touched his lip, grimacing, then went on, “I managed to get my hand on a strong sedative and jabbed him in the neck with it.”  
  
Lee questioned, “Any ideas why? I’ve already been over the file we’ve got on the guy, he’s completely clean.”  
  
“Wouldn’t have a clue,” Cottle said. “Not my job. Yours, Agent. If you need me to run a medical test on him, just call. I wouldn’t mind jabbing the bastard with a few more sharp needles.”  
  
Kara shook her head. “If he just wanted to kill her, why didn’t he do it while he was operating?”  
  
For maybe the first time any of them had ever seen, Cottle looked a little abashed. “I don’t like to toot my own horn, but that was probably because of me. I was … hovering throughout the surgery. Back-seat doctoring, I s’pose you could call it. He couldn’t have done anything suspicious that I wouldn’t have noticed.”  
  
“He got pretty beaten up on his way down to the cell,” Adama told Cottle. “You might have to check on him. If he dies, we might never find out why he tried to kill her.”  
  
The Doctor nodded. “Fine, fine. I’ll get down there when I’m certain she’s no longer at risk.”  
  
“You said she’d be fine,” Billy said worriedly.  
  
The old man put a hand on his shoulder. “I said she _should_ be fine, pup. Don’t worry yourself though, I’m gonna’ hang around and keep a close eye on her. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’ve got a patient to monitor.”  
  
Before he turned away, he mentioned to Bill, “He brought a bag with him, med kit, supposedly. I’ll have one of my aide’s run it over to the lab, the guy’s can go through it, see if they find anything. If that’s alright with you, Chief?”  
  
Bill nodded, so Cottle left and they all stood staring around for a moment. Billy’s shoulders heaved with the strength of his sigh. Kara wrapped an arm around them, turned him and started steering him down the hall.  
  
“Like the Doc said, don’t worry. You know the old lady, Billy. She’s a tough old bird. Bullets can’t get her, cancer can’t get her. A little thing like morpha certainly can’t get her.”  
  
Lee and Bill watched them go, then the younger man suggested, “We should cleanse the facility. He was here for three days, who knows what he got up to.”  
  
“Cleanse?”  
  
“Make sure he hasn’t planted anything, homing beacons, listening devices, that kind of thing.”  
  
Bill nodded. “I’ll order it done, ASAP.” Then he instructed his son, “Go over the files again.” He held up his hand to forestall protest. “I know you said you already have, but I want you to look at them one more time. Closely. If anything, _anything,_ sticks out, Lee, pursue it. Then when he wakes up, I want you and Kara to interrogate him.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Lee nodded and started to head off after the other two.  
  
Bill stopped him. “Son?” And when Lee turned around, he told him, “Don’t hold back.”  
  
Something dark glinted in Lee’s eyes and he responded, “I won’t, sir.” Then turned on his heal and strode away.

 


	17. Good Meds

Billy’s desk was abandoned, the lights were off in Roslin’s office, but the door to her suite was cracked. He imagined she was in there somewhere, her ever faithful aide nearby. He’d been down to Life Station, and had had a moment of panic when he found her bed empty.  
  
Then Cottle had told him, “Sent her back to her own bed. She was driving me up the wall. She’s a pain in the ass on the best of days and today is not the best of days.”  
  
Knocking on the door to her quarters, Bill called out, “Billy?”  
  
“In here, sir,” came the reply and Bill followed the direction of the young mans voice, pushing through another door.  
  
Her bedroom. It was a very warm room, low lighting, barely reflecting off the cream walls. The bed she lay on was large, looked soft and comfortable, with lots of blankets heaped up around her legs and four or five pillows scattered around.  
  
Both she and Billy, who sat on the edge of the bed beside her, looked over at him when he entered.   
  
“This is your bedroom,” he stated stupidly.  
  
Her voice was slow, tired. “Look Billy, aren’t his powers of observation absolutely outstanding? Must be that military training. Help me up so I can pin a medal on his frakking chest.”  
  
Billy looked up at him with barely contained amusement. “Don’t mind her, Chief, she’s been like this all day. It’s the pain meds, she doesn’t react well to them.”  
  
“It’s not me, I react fine,” she protested. “It’s the rest of the frakking world that’s reacting badly. Gone all weird. Fuzzy.”  
  
Quietly chuckling, Bill made his way closer to her. Billy rose from her side and said, “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back soon, Madame Director.”  
  
She reached an arm up, beckoning him closer. “Come ‘ere,” she ordered and he leaned down enough so that she could place a kiss on his cheek. Then she stroked the side of his face and smiled at him. “You’re a good boy.”  
  
He blushed, smiled back, and then quickly left the room. Bill took the spot he’d vacated at her side, looked down at her with a grin. “Good meds, huh?”  
  
“Good meds,” she repeated, then took his hand. “Glad you’re here. Thought you’d have up and quit by now.”  
  
Squeezing her hand, he told her, “I’m not going anywhere, Madame Director. I can’t bring myself to walk away.”  
  
She just smiled in response and then sighed deeply, staring at him. “Nicer to look at than Billy.”  
  
Bill laughed out loud, then leaned down and teased her, “But he’s such a pretty boy.”  
  
“He’s a _boy_ , that’s my point. I like _men_ ,” she explained, trying, and failing miserably, to give him a serious look.  
  
He kept laughing, shaking his head at her. “Even the old ones?”  
  
Roslin reached up a hand to stroke his cheek, like she had with Billy, miscalculated and ended up patting his face, fingers tapping against his forehead, instead. Bill chuckled against her palm.  
  
“More experienced,” was her slightly slurred reply.  
  
Sensing her beginning to fade, he peeled her hand off his face and gripped it tightly. “I should let you get some sleep.”  
  
“No, no,” she protested, refusing to let go of his hand. “Tell me what’s happening. No one will tell me anything. That frakking doctor … if I’d’ve been conscious, I would have kicked his ass.”  
  
“No doubt.”  
  
“Damage?”  
  
“Nothing serious,” Bill told her, continuing with a small smile, “Except where our Director is concerned. You had us worried for a bit there.”  
  
She waved her hand airily. “Am fine. You cleanse?”  
  
“Immediately. The place is clean again. We found and disposed of several listening devices and a homing beacon. Thankfully, none of them had yet been activated. But I’ll give you the details when you’re better.”  
  
“Everything else okay?”  
  
He nodded. “Everything’s running smoothly. No big leads on Baltar yet, but I’ve got people watching the arms dealer, Leoben, so maybe we’ll get something soon. And everything else is doing fine. Billy’s running the place, pretty much.”  
  
“Make a good Director one day,” she said softly. “Want him to get some field experience, but can’t. Would you send that cute little baby face into the field? Still make a good Director one day.”  
  
Bill smiled. “He will, I’m sure. Now stop worrying about anything. We’ve got it under control.”  
  
“Tha’s good,” her words were almost melding into one. “Jack said the place won’t burn down while I sleep. Feel useless.”  
  
“You’ll be plenty useful again when you’re better,” he soothed. “You’ve just got to focus on recovering for now. You’ll be good as new in no time.”  
  
She gave a brief snort. “They’ve sized me up for a prof – pros – prosthetic breast, to fill in what they took. You believe that? It’s a chicken fillet that goes in your bra and moulds into what’s left.”  
  
The look she gave him was miserable before her eyes turned to her chest. He followed her gaze, could see the edges of a white bandage peeking out from the few undone top buttons of what Bill thought may have been one of Billy’s dress shirts.  
  
“Sad, she’s all disfigured now.”  
  
His brow furrowed. “Who?”  
  
She put a hand over the bandage, winced slightly. “Gloria. Only Estelle’s untouched.”  
  
It took him a moment, but when he realized what the hell she was talking about, Bill was only just able to contain a burst of very unmanly giggles. “You named your boobs Gloria and Estelle?”  
  
Her tired glare was not in the least bit intimidating. “Don’t even try to tell me you don’t have a name for your wang.”  
  
This time, he couldn’t stop himself, he did burst out laughing, to the point where there was tears in his eyes. “My _wang_?”  
  
“Bet it’s something stupid like The Commander,” she grumbled and then a slow smile started to overtake her face when he kept laughing. She gently touched his shoulder and said, “You look younger when you laugh. Do it more often.”  
  
“Is that an order, Madame Director?”  
  
“Mmm-hmm.”   
  
Her eyes were dropping and his laughter faded, leaving him wearing a soft smile. “Get some sleep, Laura,” he told her quietly.  
  
Drowsily, she smiled up at him and, like she had with Billy, reached an arm out and murmured, “Come ‘ere.”  
  
He did as he was told and received a kiss on the cheek for his effort. When he straightened again, he brushed his lips over the knuckles of the hand he was still holding.  
  
She told him, “You’re a good man, Bill. Don’t mind having you round.”  
  
And before he could respond, her eyes were closed and she was out like a light. He got up from the bed and slowly headed for the door, but once there, he turned back and looked at her.  
  
Had it only been two weeks ago that he’d met this woman? Her casual jeans, her stack of mystery novels and her calculating gaze sizing him up from behind her glasses.  
  
Only two weeks. And just over a week since he’d started working for the Agency. A lot had changed in that time.   
  
He’d found his son again, was determined not to let him go again, was already beginning to work on rebuilding the burned bridges between them. He’d been reintroduced to Kara Thrace, a young woman he thought he would easily be able to love like the daughter she should have been.   
  
He’d planned a mission in which someone had died and most of his questions about the mystery organization had been answered. He’d been morally confused and just generally baffled.   
  
And he’d started getting to know Laura Roslin. A lot of things about her disturbed him. But most things about her just made him want to know more.   
  
“And I don’t mind being around, Madame Director,” he said quietly before he left.

 


	18. You've Left The Iron On

Bill hurried down towards the cells, catching Laura in the hallway. He’d been in the gym lifting weights when a page had come over the speakers telling him that his presence was required immediately.   
  
Quickly, he’d wiped his face with a towel and headed out, not caring that he was wearing no more than shorts and a t-shirt, and that he’d been perspiring heavily for over half an hour. These people at the Agency, when they said immediately, it didn’t mean as soon as possible, it meant _haul your ass._  
  
Glancing over at her, he asked, “Any idea what this is about?”  
  
She shook her head. “Just got a call from the duty guard. Said there was a situation with one of the prisoners, that Doctor Cottle had been called and I was needed.”  
  
“Same as me.”  
  
They strode in together, walking straight through the guard room and into the hall outside the cells. A glance in Gina’s cell showed she wasn’t the one with the problem, though she didn’t look well. She was curled up in a corner, staring blankly at the wall.  
  
The guard on duty stood at the door of the far end cell and he nodded and moved out of their way when they arrived. Cottle was leaning over the doctor that had tried to kill Roslin, shaking his head, while a med tech and a gurney waited behind him.  
  
It was a pretty unsettling sight really; blood was sprayed around everywhere, painting the back wall and the bed linens, the sink and toilet. And in the center of it all, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, Simon Teller, he too covered in blood.  
  
The side of his throat was ripped open.  
  
Cottle looked up at them, glared at Laura. “What the frak are you doing down here? I told you you could work at your desk. I never said anything about gallivanting around the facility.”  
  
She ignored him, asking instead, “What happened?”  
  
He held up a small, blood-covered piece of plastic, long with a sharp, jagged tip. “The spoon we send in with their meals. He snapped the top off, made himself a little weapon.”  
  
“Killed himself?” Bill asked, already knowing.  
  
Cottle nodded. “Yes. Put it through the carotid artery. He was a doctor, knew where to hit. Barely took a couple of minutes to bleed out.”  
  
Bill turned back to the guard. “You didn’t see him making this weapon?”  
  
“No, sir,” the young man said. “One second he was eating his meal, the next he was bleeding all over the place.”  
  
“So we may never know why he bothered to save my life, only to try and kill me,” Laura murmured contemplatively, studying the dead man. Then she ordered, “Get him out of here. I want a full autopsy done, Jack.” Turning to the guard, “Call someone in to clean this up.”  
  
She strode from the room and after one more brief look at the body, Bill followed, hurrying to catch up. As they walked down the hall together, he asked, “You okay?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”   
  
He shrugged. “That guy tried to - -“  
  
She cut him off with a slightly bitter laugh. “He’s not the first person who’s tried to kill me, Bill. I just usually know why.”   
  
Bill had to hit the brakes when she suddenly stopped just short of the main office and turned to him, saying, “I hate mysteries.”  
  
“You love mysteries,” he countered with half a smile.  
  
The flicker of her eyes showed her agreement, and she corrected, “I hate not knowing. It’s why I usually read mystery books so fast, so I can find out the answers to all my questions. Why did he want me dead? Who the hell is the guy? There had to have been a reason.”  
  
“Lee went through his file, tooth and comb. Followed up on everything he could think of, med school records, charity donations, everything. The guy was completely clean.”  
  
Roslin cocked her head. “And therein lies the problem. Completely clean doctors do not attempt to murder their patients.” She sighed, started walking again and he followed obediently. “Now we probably won’t ever find out his reasons.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
Laura’s eye was twitching. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but Bill had been watching her closely. When he'd first noticed it, he’d thought nothing of it. But as the night progressed and it had continued to twitch, he’d paid more attention, just a tad worried – the woman had had a seizure a week ago, after all.  
  
Then he’d recognized the pattern and had been so amused, he’d choked on his water, bringing the attention of all those at the table to himself. Saul whacked him on the back and Laura passed a napkin to him over the table.  
  
Ellen asked, “Alright there, Bill?”  
  
The eye twitched and Bill nearly burst out laughing. Barely able to bite it back, he said, “Fine, fine. Just went down the wrong way.” Glancing around at the remnants of their meal, he asked, “I think I could go for a cup of coffee, anyone else?”  
  
Both Saul and Ellen declined, obviously satisfied with their alcohol (the second bottle in, between them) but Laura, who was the reason he was only drinking water, since she was unable to imbibe due to her medication, told him, “That would be lovely.”  
  
He rose, talking a few plates with him, and walked into the kitchen of his apartment. Once the coffee maker was on, he put his hands on either side of the sink and started chuckling, as silently as possible.  
  
“Something funny?”  
  
Laura had come in behind him, bringing a few dishes with her and was now quirking an eyebrow at him in question. After a brief glance out into the dining room confirmed his guests were enthralled with other matters – namely playing footsie under the table and refilling their glasses – he grinned widely at the Director.  
  
“You hate her,” he accused.   
  
She too took a brief glance out at the pair before moving closer and whispering harshly, “If you tell me you don’t then I may seriously begin to question your judgment. That woman is a nightmare. I almost choked on my own drink when she asked me if it was true about the size of a commander’s battlestar being an accurate parallel to the size of his … you know.”  
  
As he poured two cups for them, he couldn’t stop himself from teasing, “Wang?”  
  
Glaring at him, she scraped off a plate and stated, “Whatever you want to call it, I wouldn’t say it’s appropriate dinner conversation with somebody you’ve only just met. How could you tell?”  
  
“You mean besides the fact that you look as if you’ve lost faith in all of humanity? Your eye twitches every time she speaks.”  
  
“It does not,” she quickly protested and then looked uncertain. “Does it?”  
  
He laughed again. “Yes. Every single time she says something. Don’t worry though, no one else has noticed.”  
  
She sighed and together they started to exit the kitchen. Before they were back in the dining room however, she stopped him with a hand on his chest and said quietly, “I like Saul though. If you really think he can keep his mouth shut - -“  
  
“I do.”  
  
“- - then offer him the job.”  
  
Shuffling his feet, Bill admitted, “I kind of already did.” Her eyes narrowed, but he quickly placated her, saying, “I told him you had to clear it first and he doesn’t really know anything yet. I just put it out there.”  
  
Satisfied, she instructed, “Offer it formally.” Then she seemed to steal herself before she walked out.  
  
Bill followed, watching her smile at the Tigh’s and engage Saul in a pleasant conversation about his time as an instructor at the Academy, being both a pleasant meal companion and judging the man’s past experience all in the same breath.  
  
 _Woman could have been a good politician,_ he thought idly, placing one of the mugs in front of her and then rounding the table to sit down. He took a sip, and then almost coated himself in the hot liquid when, not for the first time, a foot brushed against his leg.  
  
Ignoring the sly smile he knew Ellen was giving him, he looked over at Roslin, saw she was already beginning to tire and started thinking of ways to hurry the Tigh’s home. He knew she was still in quite a bit of pain, still feeling weak, but she’d insisted on the dinner.  
  
“Our training facility needs another instructor, Bill, it can’t wait much longer. You want Saul Tigh for the job, and I’d like to get to know him a little better first,” she’d told him.  
  
He’d only agreed when Doctor Cottle had, saying, “Fine. But no reaching, no lifting, no sudden movements - -”   
  
Bill had tuned out a lot of the list and only focused back in again when the doctor had rounded on him. “You want to take her running all over the place after only eight days, fine! But she’s your responsibility.   
  
“It’s getting cold up there and her immune system will take a blow when she starts the diloxin, if she has any kind of flu, or cold, if she so much as frakking sneezes in my presence, I’ll have your balls. And for frak’s sake, don’t let her overdo it. If she starts to get tired, wrap it up and bring her home.”  
  
Those were his orders, now all he had to do was figure out some way to follow them and get his best friend and his wife out of his apartment.   
  
“So,” Ellen said, a tad loudly, interrupting the conversation Roslin and her husband were having over the different training methods used at the Academy. “We’ve spent all this time talking about us, but you’re the guest of honor, Laura, we’re here to get to know you.”  
  
 _Good luck with that,_ Bill thought with an internal snicker, watching as Laura attempted to control her rueful eyelid and smile pleasantly at the other woman.   
  
Ellen continued, “Saul tells me you’re a school teacher. Let me guess, kindergarten?”  
  
Laura took a long sip of her coffee. “As much as I’d have loved the children at that age, I’m afraid my doctorate would have been wasted on them. I was going to be a grade school teacher, but a professor I had in university inspired me to change my course. I taught history to senior students.”   
  
Bill hid his smile, wondering how many of her former students were now working under her at the Agency.   
  
“How,” Ellen returned Roslin’s smile, “quaint. Past tense? You don’t teach history anymore?”  
  
The subtle signals between women were fascinating to Bill. So much could be said when not a word was spoken; so much could be implied with a look; the mere wording of a sentence could mean something entirely different than what was on the surface.  
  
He and Saul exchanged worried glances, then quickly grinned at each other like little boys.  
  
Laura didn’t rise to the obvious bait, instead cocking her head and saying, “I don’t teach at all anymore. I own and maintain a tutoring agency downtown now.” Then she struck right back, “And what do you do, Ellen?”  
  
Ellen was unaffected. She simply waved her hand and said airily, “This and that. I keep myself busy. I can’t imagine running a business, though. And tutoring children, no less. It must be a handful. Do you get much time for yourself?” Here, she glanced at Bill suggestively.  
  
Smile turning a touch crisper, Laura nodded. “Like you, Ellen, I stay busy. But I always take the time for what’s important.”   
  
The undeniable implication that Ellen did not made Bill wonder about the file the Agency had put together on Ellen, made him wonder exactly what she did do during the day while her husband sat at home.   
  
He cut off that line of thinking. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want any part of Ellen and Saul’s affairs. It wasn’t his place to know or care. It was his place to be a good friend to Saul, that was it. He hadn’t meddled in twenty years, since he’d first tried to warn Saul off the troubling blonde and they’d actually come to blows over it.  
  
Ellen reacted to the barb, rather subtly, but enough to increase the tension around the table. Bill knew she’d strike back and it would not be pretty when she did. Laura was starting to look worse. He had no doubt she would hold her own until the evening was over, but he wanted to hurry the conclusion along.  
  
He was contemplating the merits of setting fire to the tablecloth when he heard an odd beeping noise. Laura quickly stood up, muttering, “Excuse me,” and made her way to the living room, where she’d left her handbag.  
  
She grabbed her phone, looked at it and met Bill’s eyes across the room, telling him, “My neighbor. He’s worried I’ve left the iron on.”   
  
Bill was still learning all their codes and phrases, but he’d memorized the important ones already and he knew what that one meant: situation unfolding.  
  
On his feet and heading for the door, Bill told her, “I’ll drive you home. Don’t want your place to burn down.” Then he turned back to his friend and his wife, “Saul, you’ll see yourself out?”  
  
He and Laura were out the door before Tigh could respond.

 


	19. Spy Novel Cliché

“I’m sorry,” Laura said once they were in the car and on their way to the nearest cover site. From his place behind the wheel he glanced at her with a frown and she elaborated, “I baited her. I let her rile me and tried to rile her right back. Petty, adolescent nonsense.”  
  
He reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. I think Saul missed most of the real conversation going on behind the words.”  
  
“That’s not the point. Just something about her grates at me. She’s exactly the kind of woman I’ve never liked. Selfish and snarky. The thing I don’t get, Saul seems like a reasonable man. Why is he with her?”  
  
“Saul can be stubbornly unreasonable.” Then Bill shrugged. “He loves her. He knows better than anyone what she’s like and yet …” he shrugged again, “he loves her. Love is blind.”  
  
“Blind,” Laura snorted, shaking her head, “and dangerous. It’s unreasonable and it makes people do unreasonable things.”  
  
He tried for a smile. “You just get more cynical every day, don’t you? You don’t believe in all encompassing love? The kind where you can ignore every fault, every indiscretion, where you’ll do anything, just as long as you can stay with that person?”  
  
She was frowning. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that. But I’ve been in this particular business since I was in my twenties and one of the first lessons you learn in the field is not to form deep connections if you can avoid it. They compromise you, or they bite you in the ass. Do you believe in love like that?”  
  
Turning his eyes back to the road, Bill took a deep breath and thought about the answer to that question. “I suppose I do. I’ve never found it, but I hope it’s out there somewhere. Even if I never find it, I hope other people do. Nothing seems worth much of anything if love like that doesn’t exist. If you never have even a chance of finding that one person without which, you’ve got nothing, you are nothing, then what's the point?”  
  
When he turned to look at her, there was the slightest of smiles on her face and her eyes had softened. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know that?” She gave his hand a tight squeeze and then disentangled hers from it.  
  
Bill didn’t need to say anything in response. He just smiled at her as he pulled up to the gates to a private underground garage and flashed his pass at the two guards who came up to the window.

  
~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
They called Lee and Kara from Roslin’s office. The two were out in the field, taking a turn sitting on the arms dealer, and had been the ones to contact base and tell them the boss was needed.  
  
“Starbuck’s house of horny hotties,” was the greeting they received.  
  
Laura rolled her eyes. “Kara.”  
  
“Looking for a horny hotty to warm your bed, Director?”  
  
She glared at the speaker phone. “We got an iron call. That usually means it’s important, so stop frakking around. What’s happening?”  
  
“We think the Cylon made contact with Leoben. Got a partial recording, bastard kept pacing past his window so we were only able to hear part of the conversation. We’re bringing it in now, but Lee authorized another two teams to sit on him. From the sounds of it, he might be getting ready to take off.”  
  
“Hurry on home,” the Director ordered. “The Chief and I will listen to what you’ve got and figure out where we’re going to go from here.”  
  
With probably more force than necessary, Roslin jabbed the disconnect button on the phone and then looked over at Bill. “If the girl weren’t so effective, I’d have tossed her out on her ass day one for that mouth of hers. Problem is, she and Lee are the best I got. His quick reactions and knowledge of our procedures, paired with her out of the box way of thinking …”  
  
She trailed off and the discussion was ended. Bill looked her up and down carefully; the way she was leaning heavily on the desk spoke of her exhaustion.   
  
“You need a break,” he told her. “Lie down on your couch, get a quick nap in before they get back, I’ll wake you the moment they arrive.”  
  
It probably spoke to just how worn out she was that she didn’t argue, merely did as he’d instructed, slipping off her glasses and shoes, making herself comfortable on the couch and closing her eyes. He slipped out of the room quietly.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
“- - they might be watching you too,” came the voice over the speakers in the briefing room. Almost exactly the same as that of the Cylon in their brig, only haughtier than Gina, holding an air of confidence that she had been stripped of.  
  
Then a man’s voice, Leoben’s, “We don’t have time to waste on - - move fast. We’re on the clock, remember?”  
  
She snapped. “Of course I remember. - - telling you to get me - - need. - - and I’ll carry out the plans. You - - and slither into one of your holes.”  
  
A crackling silence and then, “Agreed. It’s where it always is, in the - -.”  
  
Bill heard Laura curse beside him and mutter to herself, “Of course _that’s_ where it cuts out. Like living in a frakking spy novel cliché.”  
  
“- - waiting for you. Good luck.”  
  
Then the line cut out completely and the four of them, Bill, Laura, Lee and Kara, sat around in silence for a moment. Bill got to his feet and looked at the others in the room.  
  
“So, they have something planned. It’s time limited. She knows where to get what she needs, and since it’s from him we’re assuming it’s weaponry of some kind. He’s about to try and move into hiding. That about what we’ve got?” he asked.  
  
They all nodded, Lee confirming, “That’s about it.”  
  
Sighing, the Director rose to her feet and instructed Kara and Lee, “Coordinate with the Chief. I want Leoben in a cell by morning.”  
  
Each of them watched her as she left and then turned to look at each other, Kara saying, “He’s in his apartment. Should be a simple breach and extract.”  
  
“Baltar’s compound was supposed to be a simple breach and extract, Starbuck,” Bill reminded her and she nodded. “You guys have done this before, you know what to do. But keep in mind he’s a sneaky bastard. No one dies tonight, not him, and especially not any of our people. Understood?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.  
  
Bill ran a hand down his face and then tilted his head towards the door. “Go.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Starbuck and Apollo, in full protective gear and with their pistols in their hands, stood on either side of the door to Leoben’s apartment. A brief, quiet confirmation in their ears informed them that the second team was in place, on ropes outside of the two windows on the opposite side of the apartment, ready to breach.  
  
Kara got in place in front of the door and Lee quietly counted down. “Three … two … one.”  
  
In a burst of motion, his partner brought her leg back and slammed it into the door, splintering the frame as it swung open. Out of the corner of his eye, at the top of the frame, Lee saw the wire glint in the light.  
  
Without a thought, he tackled Starbuck to the side of the doorway. The compression from the blast that followed knocked the wind out of him, the explosion was deafening, there was pain in his hand on the back of his head, and the fire singed the hair on the nape of his neck.  
  
Frakking bastard had booby-trapped his door.  
  
“Alright?” he asked, crawling off his partner.  
  
She was up on her feet in an instant, nodding in response and together the two of them moved in, weapons in front of them. Past the ringing in their ears, they heard glass shattering and the pop of the flash-bang in the back room. As a unit, they moved towards the commotion.  
  
The arms dealer was on the ground, covering his ears, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and swearing loudly at them. Lee dove on top of him, shoved him onto his back and cuffed him. Then, just for good measure, he turned him back around, drew his arm back and smashed him across the face, once, then twice, until the guy’s body went limp.  
  
Breathing deeply, Lee stood and stared down at him, making sure he was out, and then looked around. “Call in the clean-up team,” he instructed the two agents that had come through the windows, who had hurriedly cleared all the rooms while he’d secured the prisoner.  
  
“Tell them to be careful, watch out for more booby-traps,” he went on and they nodded in understanding. “Anything that might give us a hint as to where he left the package for his associates, bring it in. We’ll take him back to the homestead.”  
  
With just a bit of difficulty carrying the dead weight between them, Starbuck and Apollo dragged him out of the apartment. A curious neighbor had stuck her head out, but Lee waved his badge at her and she’d hurriedly reentered her home.  
  
Tossing him in the back of their van, Lee jumped up front to drive to the construction firm, where there was a set-up that allowed them to easily off-load him into the catacombs. Starbuck remained in the back, her gun still in her hand, watching their prisoner closely.  
  
Lee called his father from the car phone on the way and when the old man demanded a sit-rep, told him, “Bringing you a parcel, Dad.”  
  
“How’d it go?”  
  
Ignoring the stinging on the back of his hand – bad enough that he’d willingly let the doctor look at it when they got back – the son said, “Went exactly as you instructed it go, sir.”   
  
“Good,” Adama rumbled. “I’ll let the Director know. Put him away when you get back, then grab a few hours rest. Morning briefing, oh-seven hundred.”  
  
Lee checked the clock on the dash. There’d be just enough time for them to process Leoben, have Cottle look at his hand, shower, and maybe get two hours sleep.   
  
“Yes, sir.”

 


	20. Love And Bullets

Laura was leaning against her desk, Bill against the back of the couch. He was tired, had stayed up waiting for the teams to report in, sending the Director off to bed as soon as Kara and Lee had shipped out and staying up to monitor it himself.  
  
He’d been waiting for them to get back, had taken one look at the burn on the back of Lee’s hand and sent him off to Life Station, then he’d helped Kara process the arms dealer, who had still been unconscious, a bad bruise forming on his chin.  
  
Sleep had come easily, the moment he’d hit the mattress he’d been out like a light. The alarm had gone off at six-thirty, an hour and a half after he’d made it back to his room, and Bill had felt like he was opening his eyes just minutes after he’d closed them.  
  
Which was probably why his mind was wandering. He felt an unbelievable urge to throw himself on Roslin’s couch and start snoring, but he resisted even sitting down, unsure he’d be able to get back up again.  
  
She was distracting him. She stood perfectly still, arms folded across her stomach, staring at the ground and tapping her foot impatiently as they waited for Starbuck and Apollo, but Bill couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the wave in her hair, how it bounced slightly with every movement she made.  
  
She had pretty hair. Only a few steps and he’d be able to reach out and run his fingers through it. He almost did just that, barely stopping himself from pushing himself off the couch.  
  
Frakking exhaustion. He hadn’t been so tired since … he couldn’t even remember when.   
  
Finally, the two they were waiting for entered, looking equally as wrung out. They were practically dragging their feet as they came in, and both of them collapsed heavily onto the chairs in front of Roslin’s desk.  
  
“Report,” the Director demanded, studying them both through her glasses.  
  
Lee told her, “We breached at three a.m. Almost got blown up for our troubles. Front door was booby-trapped with a concussion grenade.” He held up his tightly bandaged hand as proof.  
  
“He wasn’t much trouble after that. The second team came in through the windows, took him down with a flash-bang. We cuffed him, knocked him out, brought him back,” Kara explained.   
  
“I called and checked in before coming here, the clean-up team is still processing his apartment. They haven’t found anything that might help us out yet.”  
  
Roslin frowned. “So we - -“ She cut herself off as her phone rang, moving to answer it. “Roslin.” Her frown deepened and her eyes narrowed. “I’m in the middle of a briefing, Jack, I can’t … No, you listen … Frak.”   
  
She slammed the receiver down and focused again on her top team. “We’ve still no idea where he’s left his goods then, so we won’t know if or when she’s retrieved them, won’t be able to set up a trap.”  
  
“Then we’ll just have to ask him,” Starbuck suggested.  
  
Bill shook his head. “I doubt he’ll say anything. Men like him, if he has a chance of getting out, he wouldn’t want word to get around that he rolls on his customers.”  
  
The grin Kara gave him was predatory. “I don’t know, sir, I can be really persuasive.”  
  
 _Torture,_ Bill thought with a grimace. Necessary maybe, especially in this case, but distasteful. Still, the Cylon was dangerous out there on the loose and she was planning something, something she needed an arms dealer to help her out with. It couldn’t be anything good and they were on a time limit.   
  
He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when the door burst open. Jack Cottle strode towards the Director, glaring. “You will walk down to Life Station for your treatment or I will drag your ass down there myself.”  
  
She glared right on back. “I’m busy, Doctor. It can wait.”  
  
“No, it can’t. You don’t get to control this schedule.”  
  
Raising a hand, she tried to talk him out of it and only got as far as, “Jack, it - -“  
  
He stormed to her so fast that Bill almost instinctively intercepted him. “We’re not gonna’ play games with your health, Madame Director. You putting things off is what got you in this situation in the first place, and I’m not going to let that happen again.”  
  
Then his face and voice softened somewhat. “Come down to the Life Station and take your medicine, Laura. The place isn’t going to go to hell while you’re down there. If something happens, this lot knows where to find you.”  
  
The look on her face was still indecisive, so Cottle went back to glaring. “Damn obstinate woman, I _will_ drag you down there.”  
  
“I’d like to see you try,” she challenged.  
  
“Well, maybe _I_ won’t drag you myself, but I’m sure I can find a few of your young, strong agents that can do it for me.”  
  
Roslin wasn’t ready to let him win. “They answer to me.”  
  
“They’re crazy protective of you, Madame Director,” Cottle told her, “so as soon as I tell them that right now you need protection from yourself, they’ll comply. And if they don’t, I have all sorts of uncomfortable medical practices to threaten them with.”  
  
With a deep breath and one last hard look, she caved. “Fine.” Her eyes turned to meet Starbuck’s. “Do what you have to do, Agent Thrace.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Bill stepped through the curtain, smiling when she opened her eyes and looked at him. She lay on the medical bed, a drip in her arm. She went to smile back, but grimaced instead.  
  
He took the hard, uncomfortable hospital chair beside her and asked, “How do you feel?” Then stopped, thought and apologized, “Sorry, that’s probably a very stupid question.”  
  
“Probably,” she agreed, giving him a small smile, letting him know she appreciated his concern nonetheless. “Jack says I’m healing nicely, hasn’t needed to drain it in a few days now. He’ll remove the stitches tomorrow.”  
  
“That’s good.”  
  
“It is,” Laura agreed and then looked up at the bag of poison her doctor was willingly putting in her body. “That’s not, though. I haven’t felt this bad since the morning after a few particularly wild parties in college.”  
  
He held up his offering. “I bought you a book.”  
  
She grimaced. “It was a nice thought, Bill, but I tried to get through a report a little while ago and ended up forcing a poor nurse to clean out a bedpan. The written word doesn’t agree with me right now.”  
  
His smile was gentle. “Who said you had to read it?”  
  
Eyeing him, she asked, “You’re going to read to me? Don’t you have better things to do, Chief Adama?”  
  
“Figured as long as my boss was lying on her ass, it was okay for me to waste a little time, too,” said Bill, grinning. “Everything’s fine. Kara’s got Leoben cooling his heels in the interrogation room for a few hours, Lee and Billy are handling everything else. And I thought you might like the company.”  
  
A grateful smile, she questioned, “What book did you bring?”  
  
“Nick Taylo. _Love and Bullets_. Read it?” When she shook her head, grimacing at what he assumed was another wave of nausea, he settled back in his chair, opened the book and began to read.  
  
"’It started like it always did. With a body. This one was in the river, and I could tell she had once been beautiful, but this bullet and fast current had taken away from her.’”  
  
“’All we are, or that we think we are, all that we are certain about, is taken away from us. When you've worked the streets and seen what I've seen, you become more and more convinced of it every day.’”  
  
He watched as she closed her eyes and tried to relax. He had a feeling they wouldn’t even make it to the end of the first chapter before she’d be asleep and he was glad for it, she needed her rest, and better she sleep through the experience of polluting her own body to save it, than keep fighting the sickness.  
  
Refocusing on the book in his hand – one he’d read many times before, a favorite of his – Bill continued reading, a secret part of him hoping that the sound of his voice would help soothe her worries away.  
  
“’Caprica City has been my teacher, my mistress. From the moment I open my eyes, she is in my blood, like cheap wine. Bitter and sweet, tinged with regret. I'll never be free of her, nor do I wanna’ be, for she is what I am. All that is, should always be.’"

 


	21. Flesh And Bone

Striding into the interrogation room, Kara took a seat across from the arms dealer, a file in her hand. They’d found very little on the man, not even a last name, and it was disconcerting.   
  
The Agency’s resources could usually find every little detail about anyone. Obviously Leoben had spent his entire life under the dradis screen. He was practically a ghost, which didn’t help for what she was about to do.  
  
He smiled at her, moving his chained hands onto the top of the table, and it was sickly in a way that forced Kara to suppress a shudder. He welcomed, “Hello,” in a voice that spoke to her far too gently.  
  
“Leoben, right?” she asked. “Gotta’ last name?”  
  
Not responding, he scratched at his scruffy face, eyed her for a long minute and then instead countered, “Do you have a first?” When she ignored him, he stated, “I like to know who I’m talking to.”  
  
“We’ve got you on illegal arms dealing and reckless endangerment, for that little surprise on your front door. It might do you some good to help us out a little.”  
  
“We? Us?” he questioned. “Who are you? No one has read me any rights. Are you the police?”  
  
Kara smiled at him. “No. You don’t get any rights with us. You don’t get tried for your crimes by a jury of your peers with us. You either cooperate, which will make any problems you have with us go away, or you don’t, which will make _you_ go away. Understanding me?”  
  
When he nodded, she repeated, “Now, gotta’ last name?”  
  
He still wouldn’t answer the question. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”  
  
With a sigh, she closed her file and stood. “You need to work on your cooperation skills.”   
  
Then she walked out of the room, nodding to the two agents by the door, who quickly entered. Before it closed behind her, she heard the crack of a baton smashing fingers, pushed off a wave of understanding sympathy for the man – she knew all to well what that felt like – then listened to his chains rattle as another sharp crack sent him to the ground.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Laura would kill someone for a glass of ambrosia. Damn Cottle and his frakking rules. She needed something to take the edge off the pounding in her head and the cool wash cloth Billy had gently laid over her face was just not cutting it.   
  
Bill had ambrosia, enjoying its burn while he sat there, on the armchair across from the couch she was lying on in her suite, all healthy and able to get a buzz. _Bastard,_ she thought, then chastised herself. That was unfair, he’d been good to her today, his voice soothing her into sleep that, while it hadn’t been completely comfortable, had been far better than staying awake while she’d undergone her first treatment.   
  
It was sweet of him really, to come down and read to her. She was sure his intentions had been pure and platonic, but there’d been something incredibly romantic about the gesture, and on and off again she’d jump between the urge to shy away from it and the want to revel in it.   
  
Now though he was hovering, staying close by. Not as badly as Billy was, who’d already asked her if she needed something twelve times. Once more and she may just snap at the boy, even if she knew she’d regret it thoroughly.  
  
Their overprotective presence was starting to drive her insane. She didn’t mind that they sit in the room with her, but she didn’t want to be coddled. She just wanted to get through this and then move on, same as she did with every other thing in her life. Problem was, she barely had enough energy to keep her eyes open, let alone get up and put cancer in her past.  
  
“Can I get you anything, Madame Director?” Billy’s voice interrupted her thoughts.  
  
Before she could growl something along the lines of, “Sit down and relax, before I knock you on your ass,” she heard the door swing open.  
  
She wondered if Jack knew that he’d make the absolute worst secret agent in the world, since she’d always been able to smell him coming from a mile away, stale smoke clinging to him like a blanket.   
  
Then she thought about it and decided that it was odd and a little bit sad, really, that that smell had become a great comfort in her life.  
  
Removing the wash cloth from over her eyes, she looked up to see him parking his rear on her coffee table and opening his little black bag of wonder. “What?” she asked testily.  
  
He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. “Got something to tell you all. Pretty important.”  
  
“Then stop frakking around and tell us,” Laura ordered.  
  
Giving her an I’m-not-scared-of-you look, he said, “I can do two things at once, Madame Director.” And as he pumped up the cuff, explained, “Just got the pathology reports from Simon Teller’s autopsy back from the lab. Bit of a surprise.”  
  
“If you don’t get to the point, Jack, I’m going to poke you in the frakking eye.”  
  
He met her glare. “I know why he tried to kill you. He was a Cylon.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
“Are you ready to cooperate?” Kara asked the slumped, bleeding mass on the other side of the table.   
  
He lifted his head. Frakker was still smiling. “Just tell me your name.”  
  
“Just tell _me_ what I want to know. The woman who called you, the blonde one, Gauis Baltar’s friend, what can you tell me about her?”  
  
“Goes by the name Sarah,” he murmured, seemingly uninterested, resting his chin on his folded hands and sighing deeply. “I don’t know much else. She calls, I get her what she needs, she pays me, that’s it.”  
  
Making a note on her pad, Kara went on, “She called you yesterday. What did she want?”  
  
“You already know the answer to that. What’s your name? Please? I just want to know what to call you?” He sounded sincere, but she wasn’t about to play his game.  
  
“She wanted weapons, then. She’s planning something. And I know you know all about it,” she stated, leaning closer to him. “What’s she planning?”  
  
He ignored her. “I could guess your name. Jessica? No, that doesn’t sound right. Kate?”  
  
Kara gave the agent behind him a brief nod. With a crack to the back of the skull, the prisoner was on the ground. Standing, she rounded the table, put her boot on his throat, applied pressure and asked again, “What is she planning?”  
  
“You’ll know soon enough,” he promised, his voice croaking, wheezing as he spoke over the force on his neck, and then the mother frakker smiled at her again.  
  
 _Time to step it up a notch,_ she decided.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
A bomb could have gone off in Roslin’s quarters and not one of them would have noticed. Billy had dropped his pen at the announcement. Bill and Laura simply stared at Cottle.  
  
“You’re sure?” she breathed, wide eyes searching out the truth.  
  
The doctor nodded. “Certain.”  
  
Looking over she met Bill’s eyes. “I guess we just discovered model number two. Billy, I want his photograph circulated to all of our units. Priority danger, report straight in, observe, but do not approach.” The aide nodded, hurrying from the room to do as he was instructed.   
  
Bill suggested, “Maybe Gina could shed some light on this.”  
  
She nodded and started to get off the couch, but Cottle pushed her back down. She protested, “I should be the one to talk to her, she trusts me.”  
  
The doc shook his head. “Leave it until you’re feeling better. She’s not going anywhere.”

  
~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
The table had been removed. The bucket sat in front of her, brimming with water, and Leoben was being held on his knees by two burly guards. She asked again, “What is she planning?”  
  
“Stacey? They call you Stace?”  
  
With a flick of her wrist, the guards pushed his head down, holding him under water as he struggled and thrashed. A long beat, and then she waved them up. Dripping and gasping, he broke the surface.  
  
Drawing in ragged breaths, he spoke, “Kara! It’s Kara, isn’t it? Kara Thrace.”  
  
Her blood ran cold and she froze, staring at him. How the hell could he know that? She was practically invisible these days. How could this bastard find out her name? And why would he want to?  
  
Angry and unsettled, she motioned for the guards to dunk him again. Let him stay there for maybe a beat too long and then snapped, “Pull the frakker up.”  
  
Coughing and sucking in air. “This is not your fate, Kara Thrace.”  
  
She leaned down close to him. “Where will she pick up the package from? What will she use it for?”  
  
He was laughing now and it only served to further infuriate her. Grinning widely, he said again, “This is not your fate. You were meant for greater things, Kara. You were meant to lead them to their doom.”  
  
In a flash of movement she grabbed the back of his neck herself and slammed his face into the bucket. He writhed and twitched, fought against her hold, but his weakness from the interrogation and the other two men holding him down kept him there.  
  
When he suddenly stopped moving, she released him and he was hauled out of the bucket, dropping in a heap on the ground, splayed out in the puddle of water that now coated the floor.  
  
For a moment, she thought he was dead, then he rolled onto his side and coughed up a stream of water. With scratching gasps of breath told her, “I don’t know what she’s planning. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you … I’ll tell you where to find what she’s looking for.”

 


	22. What God Giveth

Laura watched her for a long moment through the one way mirror. Gina was curled in a corner of her cell, her knees drawn up, her head resting on them. Her guards had told her that the woman had been much the same way since she’d watched Simon Teller kill himself.  
  
Sensing a presence behind her she tilted her head, but did not turn. Kara Thrace made herself known, saying, “We know where the arms are. A shipping container on the docks. I’ve already talked to the Chief, he’s sent two teams to get out there, stay back and watch for the suspects.”  
  
“Good,” Laura nodded. “But there may be the chance they’ve already got what they wanted. We may be too late. Did he tell you what was in the container?”  
  
“A bomb, ma’am. Enough power to take out about three city blocks.”  
  
Still staring at the prisoner, Laura commented, “That’ll leave a dent.” Turning towards the former pilot, she said, “Now we’ve got to find her target. That size, she may just be going for a big bang and high casualties, but I’ve got a feeling that the Cylon’s have a plan.”  
  
“I’ve learned to trust your feelings, Madame Director. Lee and I will start narrowing down possible targets, just in case we’ve missed our window on the shipping container.”  
  
Roslin nodded in approval, turned on her heel heading for the door. Just before she reached it, she mentioned to the younger woman, “Kara … it’s Colonial Day next week. And I think if you take a look at the inventory the locals sent to us of Baltar’s office at the compound, you’ll find a very crude set of sketches that nearly look like blueprints of Aphrodite Hall.”  
  
“We’ll start there, ma’am.”  
  
Gina didn’t even look up when Roslin entered, nor when the guard opened the cell and the Director stepped in.  
  
Standing a few meters from her, Laura said, “Gina? I’ve brought you another book.” No response, so she took a few steps closer and crouched down in front of the Cylon. “I need your help, Gina. I need you to help me or a lot of people are going to die.”  
  
“They were going to die anyway,” came the stilted response. “What God giveth, he can also take away.” Then she lifted her head and met Laura’s eyes. “And he will. Human life is a fickle thing, Madame Director. It can end in a moment.”  
  
Something twisted in Laura’s stomach at the comment, hitting close to home and she resisted the urge to turn away from the woman’s penetrating stare. She ignored it, asking curiously instead, “And what about Cylon life?”  
  
Gina shook her head. “Eternal. When this body is destroyed, my mind, my being, will be downloaded into another.”  
  
The new information chilled Laura. So Simon hadn’t killed himself, he’d just sent his mind home? She made a mental note to immediately ask Jack if all the proper precautions had been made before he’d been brought down through the catacombs to ensure that he’d never be able to lead anyone back.  
  
“That’s the worst thing,” Gina was saying quietly. “If we can never truly die, how will our souls ever find God?”  
  
The Director had no answer to that. She produced a photograph from between the pages of the book she’d brought, a head-shot of Simon Teller on a slab in the morgue. “He’s one of you, isn’t he? The second model.”  
  
She barely glanced at it before informing Laura, “The fourth model.”  
  
So they knew their numbers too. That was interesting, but not very useful. He was the second they’d found and Laura would probably always refer to him as _that frakking bastard that tried to kill me_.  
  
“He tried to kill me, Gina. He saved my life, removed my cancer, and then he tried to kill me with an overdose of morpha. I want to know why, Gina. I need to know why. I’m a nobody to the outside world, so how could he know who I am? Why would he target me? Is there some kind of plan that you aren’t telling me about?”  
  
“I’ve told you everything I know,” she said and Laura was surprised to find her distance – rather than the cordial politeness, or occasional defiance – unsettled her, but quickly pushed the feeling away.   
  
“Any insight at all, Gina. Why would he want me dead? How could he possibly know who I am, that I’m a threat to him?”  
  
The Cylon finally met her eyes. “You were foretold,” she said cryptically.  
  
Laura’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. “Foretold? I don’t understand. Foretold by whom?”  
  
“They hybrid’s spoke of you. Your own religious prophecy was all the confirmation we needed.”  
  
“Prophecy,” Laura repeated, the word tasting dirty on her tongue. Religious nonsense. With a heavy sigh, she realized the conversation was going nowhere.  
  
Changing track, she told the blonde, “We’re searching for another of your model. Is there any way at all for you to help us find her?”  
  
She shook her head. “No. I have no way to contact others of my kind. I can’t locate her. I can’t know what she’s thinking. My sisters and I are individual’s, Madame Director. And mostly human, we don’t work the same way as networked computers.”  
  
“Very well,” Laura sighed again and then passed over the book, keeping hold of the doctor’s photograph. Rising to her feet, she said, “Thank you anyway, Gina.”  
  
“And you, Madame Director.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Watch dog duty sucked. Sitting, watching, waiting. It drove her mad. Kara Thrace was a woman of action. She thrived on adrenaline. Sitting in a beaten down car in the dark just off the ports for hours on end, watching the door of a shipping container that may or may not still contain a crazy ass explosive, was utterly adrenaline-less.   
  
She looked over at her partner, his head bent over a file. Lee had never seemed to mind the calm. She knew he got just as much of a kick out of being in the thick of it – viper, gunfight, whatever – but he handled the quiet times well too. He was perfectly capable of sitting still for the whole night. She always wanted to fidget like a small child.  
  
The coffee hadn’t helped. She needed to pee again. She envied Lee that on stake-outs too, his ability to just fill an empty bottle, while she had to haul her bare ass out into the cold weather to urinate beside the back wheel.  
  
With a sigh, she got out. Frak, it was getting cold. Winter was coming in early. Still, she enjoyed being able to stretch her legs. She hummed quietly to take her mind off her quickly chilling rear end, reefed her pants up as soon as possible and then dove back into the vehicle.  
  
“It’s freezing out there,” she mumbled to Lee. “I swear there’s icicles in places no woman should ever be cold.”  
  
He just smiled at her, turned back to his file. “I think the Director’s right. Colonial Day. What better time to make a statement. There are gatherings all over the place.”  
  
She asked, “Any good ones?”  
  
“Those blueprints – they could be a decoy, or they could have changed their plans, but the President’s Ball is held in the Aphrodite Hall. The entire cabinet will be there. Hell, the entire government attends; Quorum members, governors, everyone. Even the Admiralty show up.”  
  
“Don’t they usually keep someone away? You know, just in case a crazy scientist and his Cylon bimbo blow the place up?”  
  
Lee chuckled grimly. “Yeah, ‘cause that’d be what we need in the aftermath of all that panic, the Secretary of Education taking the Presidential oath.” Shaking his head, he went on, “They blow that, it’ll be chaos. They’d have practically wiped out our entire system of government.”  
  
Her foot started tapping in frustration. “We need to know if they’ve already got the frakking bomb. We need to go into that container.” He eyed her, so she pressed, “Come on, Lee, one little peek to see if it’s empty.”  
  
With a sigh, he pulled his gun out of its holster, checked the clip and muttered, “Why do I let you talk me into these things? The old lady’ll have a fit if Baltar and his girlfriend find us stumbling our way over and take off.”  
  
“We’re secret agents, Lee. We can handle stealth. Besides, it didn’t take much to convince you.”  
  
“Only because you’re right. We need to know.”  
  
They checked up and down the darkened street before slipping out of the car, crouching beside it, checking again. With a quick hand movement from Apollo, they raced across the road, keeping low and in the shadows.   
  
Her trusty pocket knife, or rather the pliers on it, came in handy. She quickly cut through the fence, pushed it aside, wincing when it screeched slightly, and then slipped through, sprinting to cover behind one of the containers, Lee right behind her.   
  
“We need to take out that light,” he whispered.  
  
One of the yard lights directed its beam straight onto Leoben’s container. She pulled her weapon, spun on the silencer and aimed. The shatter was loud, the glass hitting the ground in a spray of tinkling. They waited a few minutes, carefully listening, waiting for someone to come running to investigate.   
  
No one did.   
  
Low and fast, they headed to the front of the container. Starbuck kept an eye on their surroundings while Lee pulled out his flashlight and inspected the lock.  
  
“Padded,” he whispered. “Key, not combination.”  
  
“Did the clean-up team happen to find any keys on their search of his apartment?”  
  
Shaking his head, “No.”  
  
Without a word between them they switched off, Lee watching their backs and Kara using another little tool on her knife. It took a minute of fiddling, flashlight in her mouth, but finally she picked it and it popped open with a click.  
  
Lee stopped her before she could swing the door open. “Booby-traps, remember?”   
  
She held it open, barely an inch, while he shone his light down the crack. “Found it,” he said. “Pass me your knife.”  
  
He used the pliers to snip the wire that was likely attached to a grenade of some sort and very carefully, they eased it open wide enough to slip in. Both of them switched their lights on, taking in their surroundings.  
  
It was full of crates. Lee shrugged at her. “Guess we’ll have to check them all. Again, keep an eye out for any little treats the nut may have left behind.”  
  
Before they could take a step towards the closest crate, a slamming sound spun them both around. The door was closed again. They both slammed against it but it wouldn’t budge.  
  
“Some frakker’s locked us in!” Kara shouted then cursed up a storm as she kept plowing her shoulder into it.  
  
“No,” Lee said and she turned to look at him. He had his light pointed towards the wall beside the door and she followed the beam. A small, round device blinked back at her. “We must have tripped something, it’s magnetized the door.”  
  
Before Kara could reply, there was a hissing noise. Again, they spun, the beam of their lights filtering through the green plume of smoke that was coming out of a canister against the back wall.  
  
Frak. The old lady was going to kick their asses to Geminon and back. Their asses or their corpses. Either way, it didn’t bode well for them.

 


	23. To Geminon And Back

It was getting difficult to breathe. Whatever the noxious green gas was, it was filling the shipping container at a rapid speed and there wasn’t any sign of ventilation. Lee could feel his throat closing in with every breath he took; both his eyes and his lungs were burning.

 

He and Kara tried in vain to muscle the door into opening, but it was sealed tightly. Her phone in her hand, Kara quickly sent off the emergency signal, but Lee knew, by the way each intake of air was getting harder and harder, by the way his head was beginning to spin, that they’d never get to them in time.

 

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he gasped, swaying on his feet, reaching back with a hand on the wall to attempt to steady himself.

 

“You think?” Kara grunted, her voice weak as she made one last, desperate slam against the door, then pitifully slipped down against it onto the ground.

 

Frantically, Lee searched his surroundings, but he was barely able to see in the darkened container, the only light coming from the abandoned flashlights they’d dropped. The blinking box caught his eye and, sliding to the ground himself, he tried to move towards it, but progress was slow, too slow.

 

He withdrew his gun. Firing it into an unknown gas was stupid, it could light it and they’d light up with it. There was also the risk of ricochet, but he didn’t know what else to do. They were dying, Kara was already unconscious and he was fading fast. Risk it, or die anyway were his only two options.

 

Taking unsteady aim, he pressed the trigger. The shot was deafening, and the bullet went wide, but they weren’t engulfed in flames and that was encouraging. Flat on his stomach now, barely able to see, completely unable to breathe, he steadied the pistol as much as he could and fired off three quick shots and prayed that at least one of them hit the mark.

 

One of them did. There was a crackle as electronics were destroyed, sparks taking the place of the flashing light, and then something clicked. He swung his head towards the door and there was the sweet hissing of fresh air rushing in.

 

With a strength he thought he no longer had – everything was blurry, his bones felt like bricks, darkness was beginning to surround his vision – Lee dragged his body over to Kara and then pulled the both of them closer to the opening. He was able to jar the door open just a touch more before he mercifully slipped into a warm slumber, completely forgetting the fact that he may never wake up from it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bill had waited anxiously in Life Station for the gurney’s to roll in. The call he’d gotten had pulled him from one of the deepest sleeps he’d had in his life and thrown him into one of the biggest panics. An emergency signal had been broadcast from Kara’s phone. That alone said it was bad; if the agents in question could only get off a signal, instead of calling in and reporting a dire situation, then things were a mess.

 

He’d listened to the teams move in from the conference room, pacing restlessly, his mind running through so many scenario’s – they could be bleeding out somewhere; they could be captured, being tortured and brutalized and Gods know what else; they could both already be dead.

 

His heart was in his throat the entire time and, for the first time since he was a boy and his mother had still been alive to encourage faith in the Lords, Bill Adama had prayed. _Not Lee, please Gods, I’ll do anything, please, let my son come home, let them be safe. Not again, not again, not again - -_

 

Laura’s hand on his chest had stopped his pacing and her quiet instruction, “Breathe,” had prevented him from hyperventilating. She stood in front of him, tense and worried herself, but her mere presence was calming.

 

They stood in silence, the warmth from her palm over his heart keeping the panic at bay, their eyes not wavering from each others, as the emergency response team reported over the loud speakers.

 

 _“Approaching signal,”_ a youthful male voice commented. _“The car is empty, the signal’s coming from inside the shipping yard.”_ A long pause. _“We’ve found their point of breach, moving in now.”_

 

Several tense moments passed and then the speakers crackled to life again _. “We’ve found them! Gods, they’re not moving. Get the medics in here, now! They’re at the entrance of the targets container, neither of them are moving,” he_ said, short of breath, as if he was running.

 

Bill’s eyes dropped away from Laura’s and he literally stopped breathing, waiting, waiting ... it seemed for an eternity. _“I’ve got a pulse! Starbuck’s got a pulse.”_

_“So does Apollo,”_ another voice claimed, relief evident. __

_“Medics have moved in,”_ the first voice claimed. _“Get them both on gurney’s and then back to the homestead. Chopper, Farmboy: secure the site. Clean up team requested.”_

“Go,” Laura told Bill softly. “Go wait in Life Station, they shouldn’t be far away. I’ll take care of everything else.”

 

Bill was moving before she’d even finished speaking, which was how he found himself watching his son and Kara being rolled in. He’d never been more relieved in his life then when he found Lee’s blue eyes looking up at him and Kara trying to smile through the oxygen mask.

 

As they were examined by the doctor, Bill sunk into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. He’d have to get used to it, he supposed, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to. He wanted to beg Lee to quit, to actually go and serve drinks full time in the bar upstairs, but again, he’d never be able to.

 

His son was too much like him in that regard, born an adrenaline junkie with a frakking hero complex. Lee put himself in danger for the thrill of it, and also so that others could stay out of it, and damned if Bill didn’t understand that, it was precisely why he wasn’t enjoying his retirement like he should be.

 

Bill looked up as Cottle made his way over, standing and quickly asking, “How are they?”

 

“They’ll live,” the old doctor stated.

 

“Good,” Laura said from behind Bill, startling him as he hadn’t even heard her come in. He watched as her eyes lost the worried look, anger replacing it. “I’d hate to have lost the opportunity to kill them myself.”

 

“I’m running some tests now,” Cottle went on, “but from the looks of it, they’re damned lucky.” Then his eyes flicked over Laura’s stone cold face. “Or unlucky, depending on how you wanna’ look at it.”

 

“The clean-up team is moving fast, they’ll be bringing in a canister of gas for the lab to take a look at. From what we’ve so far been able to ascertain, they entered the cargo container and set off one of Leoben’s booby-traps,” Laura informed them. “The door sealed itself and the gas was released. More than likely lethal.”

 

Cottle nodded. “A few more minutes in it and we’d be having this discussion outside the morgue.”

 

“A bullet through the locking mechanism was the only thing that saved them. Lee’s gun was found just inside the container. Looks as if he got the door opened and then dragged Kara and himself into fresh air.” She met Cottle’s eyes. “When can I talk to them?”

 

“Now, if you really want to. But I’ll be keeping them in here for a day or two, and then I want them out of commission for at least a week. I’ll have a better time frame once I know what the gas is and their tests come back.”

 

Laura was already moving to the other side of Life Station, flinging aside the curtain and approaching the beds her agents lay in. Bill decided he didn’t need to hear her hand them their asses. His son was going to be okay, Kara was going to be okay, he was emotionally and physically exhausted, he was going to go back to bed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Lee knew they were in for it the moment the Director stepped through the curtain. In fact, he’d known they were in for it the moment they’d entered the cargo container, but her eyes when she first looked at he and Kara had told him that perhaps the near death thing was not going to be the most unpleasant event of the night.

 

She stood between the beds, seemingly passive, as she let them retell, their throats burning with each word, their side of events. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and started slowly extricating their innards with her words.

 

“If you two were any other agents in this facility, I’d have you tossed out on your asses so fast that your heads would spin.”

 

Foolish, reckless, and a myriad of other words were used to describe their stupidity. Her sharp eyes had them both resisting the urge to pull the covers of the bed up over their heads. She even threatened them with dungeon duty, the job of cleaning the barracks, shower and toilets included, until your comrades were satisfied – which, bastards so smug that it wasn’t them having to do it, they never were.

 

“You are damn lucky that Doctor Cottle outranks me when it comes to matters of your health, because if he didn’t, you’d both be hauled out of these beds and pistol whipped all the way to the dungeon, where a bucket of water and a toothbrush would be waiting for you.”

 

The verbal reaming continued for ten whole minutes until she seemed satisfied that Kara and Lee felt like small children. Then her shoulders slumped somewhat and for the first time in a while, Lee saw just how very _tired_ the Director was.

 

“I don’t know what’s coming,” she told them quietly, her tone resigned. “But I do know that whatever it is, I need the both of you with me. I’m not ready to bury another agent just yet, let alone two, and certainly not the two of you. No more frak ups.”

 

The order in her last words was undeniable and Kara and Lee both nodded, Lee’s neck moving so fast that he actually dislodged his oxygen mask.

 

As she was speaking, Billy had slipped in beside her, giving the two of them a sympathetic smile. Once she was done, she turned to him and he silently handed her a piece of paper and then was gone again. She opened it, her head dropping for a moment before she looked up at them.

 

“The clean-up team has just finished with the container. The bomb is gone.”

 


	24. What Will Come

It had been years since Laura had stepped foot in a temple and it was difficult to suppress the memories of three long, polished, wooden caskets as she did now. The large round room was near empty this time, but the incense alone incited thoughts of hundreds of saddened people crammed in, the haunting sounds of the death hymn, her brother-in-laws ashen face, his eyes long past devastated and forevermore empty, unwaveringly staring at a horrifically smaller version of the coffins.

 

She had to take a deep breath as she sat heavily on a darkened pew near the back. There was a reason she avoided places of worship. Ever since she was a teenager, they had stopped symbolizing uplifting faith and become one of the key sets in her personal drama of loss and grief.

 

“This is the first time in our acquaintance that you’ve come to me, Laura Roslin. You must be deeply troubled.”

 

The voice didn’t startle her, even though she hadn’t heard anyone approach. She’d long since become accustomed to Elosha’s mysterious ways, certain that in another life she was a masterful spy.

 

She cocked her head, glancing over at the priestess who was suddenly sitting on the pew beside her. “Not deeply so, no. I just needed to get out for awhile.”

 

Elosha gave her a smile. “You lie terribly well. A skill of your profession, no doubt. Have you ever considered trying your hand at the high stakes triad tables?”

 

“I’ll enter the tournament when I retire.”

 

“I believe the change of career would be wise. Not only would your income increase, so would your life expectancy.”

 

Laura laughed. “Peace at last.”

 

“So say we all.”

 

They watched for a moment in companionable silence as another priestess across the room removed burnt out candles and replaced them with new ones, lighting them in a most reverential way, before Elosha questioned, “Why have you come to a place you so detest?”

 

“I don’t ever remember saying I detested temples,” Laura replied.

 

Elosha smiled again. “You avoid them as if you fear that faith is an infectious disease you don’t wish to catch.”

 

“Maybe I do,” Laura sighed. “I’ve come to speak with you.”

 

“That much is understood and in fact, I would be quite insulted if you were here to speak with one of the other priests. What troubles you?”

 

“I wanted to ask you what the Scriptures say about prophecy,” Laura told her.

 

Elosha obviously wasn’t expecting the response; she leaned back slightly and raised an eyebrow in question. “Prophecy?” The Director nodded and so the priestess took a moment to think and then told her, “Most of the Scriptures don’t mention it at all as prophecy implies there is an unchangeable destiny and it is stated repeatedly that the Gods gave us free will so that we may choose our own destinies.”

 

“But there is something, isn’t there? I don’t remember much about the Scriptures, but my mother read them to me when I was young and I can vaguely recall something.”

 

“The book of Pythia,” Elosha said. “She supposedly tells of a great tragedy befalling the people, forcing them to flee their homes and take to the stars.” Meeting Laura’s eyes, she asked, “Will you tell me why you are suddenly so curious about such things?”

 

Laura paused a long moment and then said, “We have a prisoner. She said ... she said that I was a target of our enemies because I was foretold.” It was only as she repeated the words to a third party that she realized how ridiculous her conversation with Gina had been.

 

She was about to tell Elosha to forget it entirely when the priestess told her, “The only prominent character foretold by Pythia was the dying leader.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“’And the Lords anointed a leader to guide the caravan of the heavens to their new homeland’,” Elosha quoted. “It is said that the new leader suffered a wasting disease and would not live to enter the promised land.”

 

Laura froze for a moment. “What kind of wasting disease?”

 

“The writings are not specific. But if you are thinking of your cancer, that you may be the dying leader, do not worry yourself over it. Your tumor has been removed.”

 

“And if it comes back?”

 

“You’re taking what this prisoner said seriously.”

 

“Yes,” Laura said immediately, then shook her head. “No. No, I’m not, I just ... I don’t know why I’m here. I suppose I was hoping you would tell me that it’s a load of crap.”

 

Elosha smiled her enigmatic smile. “It is a load of crap.”

 

Startled, the Director met her eyes. “It is?”

 

“Do you truly believe that the Scriptures foretold that you would lead the people through space to a new home after these ones are destroyed?” Not really expecting an answer, Elosha went on, “I prefer the part of the writings that tell us we make our own destiny. It makes our time here seem so much more important, don’t you think?

 

“But if this is really bothering you, Laura, then perhaps you should think about those teachings from your childhood and remember that the Scriptures say a lot of things that aren’t true.”

 

“Coming from a priestess, it reminds me why I’m not a firm believer.”

 

“Even those of us that are secure in our faith can question what we are told by our Gods. The writings also say that the first human was shaped out of mud and the first woman is responsible for all evil and suffering in the world.” She smirked, “I say man is far more likely to cause suffering. The stories in the Scriptures are purposely open to interpretation and meant to be understood as the metaphors they are, rarely taken literally.”

 

Chuckling deeply, Laura met Elosha’s eyes. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re most welcome. But this is not all that worries you.”

 

“No,” Laura sighed. “In fact, right now it’s pretty low on the list of things that are worrying me. I was just curious I suppose. They tried to kill me and I don’t know why.”

 

“Perhaps it was merely because they could sense the threat you were. Whether you are the dying leader, or the Director of the Agency, you are not a woman to be trifled with, Laura Roslin. Though, if you start having hallucinations of serpents, be sure to let me know.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Lee and Kara had been released from Life Station, pending another few tests, and were now sitting in the Directors office. She was obviously still pissed at them, but as she had said, she needed them. They’d been filling out mountains of backlogged paperwork – part of their punishment – so to be in on the meeting was somewhat of a respite.

 

“The President’s Ball?” Bill questioned with a frown, leaning back against the couch and thinking deeply.

 

Kara frowned too. “It’s all we can think of. There’ll be celebrations everywhere on Colonial Day, of course, but if I were a crazy Cylon hoping to damage mankind, then that would be my target.”

 

“We can’t really rule out the parades, or the large park gatherings, if they’re just going for a big bang with high casualties, but strategically the President’s Ball would be the best hit. The President, the cabinet, the Quorum. Admiral’s and high ranking officials. It would devastate society’s structure,” Lee commented.

 

Roslin sighed. “We’ve no way at all to confirm this?”

 

“Leoben swears he doesn’t know anything more. I think he’s lying, but I’ve tried everything to get more out of him and can’t,” Kara informed them.

 

“Have you tried,” Bill hesitated a moment, seemingly unsure if he wanted to finish the question, “drugs?”

 

Both Kara and Lee looked confused. “What kind of drugs?” the younger Adama demanded.

 

Laura’s eyes were piercing as she studied him through her glasses. “You’re talking about the HYPER program.”

 

His surprise showing, he met her gaze. “You know about that?” She just raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes. “Of course you know about that. Why aren’t you using it?”

 

“There was a reason that program was scrapped, Bill. The results of every experiment were inconclusive and the rate of fatalities was high. Few of the serums were ever perfected and certainly not the one you’re suggesting. HYPER-476 has a fifty percent chance of death.”

 

“Stop,” Kara demanded and Laura and Bill turned to the two agents. “What the frak are you two talking about? HYPER program? Serums? Four-seven ... whatever?

 

The Director and the Chief exchanged a look and then Bill started, “HYPER was a highly classified military program conducted about two decades ago, focused on drug experimentation. Mind control substances and the like. HYPER-476 was one of the drugs created, used for interrogation purposes. It put the subject in such a state of anxiety that they believed their very survival was on the line.”

 

Lee looked shocked, horrified even. “The Fleet was creating mind control substances?”

 

It was Laura who responded. “Both of you would have been too young to remember, but twenty, twenty-five years ago were troublesome times for the Colonies. Paranoia about the Cylons returning was still high; Sagittaron was fighting for equal rights. Anti-unification groups were running rampant, it even looked as if a war would break out between Picon and Libron.”

 

“Cylon sympathizing groups were a big problem,” Bill continued. “And the crazies on the opposite end of the spectrum who thought we should go back to living in the dark ages and were willing to force their belief on everyone.”

 

“I remember learning a bit about it at school, and in War College, but ...” Lee trailed off.

 

Laura brought them back on track. “The point is, the Agency hasn’t used hallucinogens on prisoners in a long time and Leoben is a civilian arms dealer. A criminal, yes, but can we risk killing him in order to confirm where the attack will take place?”

 

“We may have to,” Bill said seriously. “He’s just an arms dealer, yeah, but he’s also a known associate of a Cylon who has a bomb that can kill thousands. A bomb he provided her with.”

 

Silent contemplation reigned for a long minute. Lee wanted to say something, wanted to voice his belief that no, they absolutely could not use an experimental drug on a civilian prisoner, but his father had a point. Leoben had armed a Cylon, maybe not knowing what she was, but he’d done it nonetheless. And thinking her just a terrorist and handing over a big old bomb was certainly bad enough.

 

“We’re on a time limit, too,” he stated quietly, not comfortable with promoting the idea, but even less comfortable with the devastating effects if they took a gamble on the President’s Ball and were wrong.

 

Roslin nodded. “The needs of the many,” she stated, equally as subdued as Lee, meeting his eyes in a moment of understanding. “I’ll call the lab, we should have a sample in stock. If not, I know where to get it. Get Leoben ready,” she ordered, looking at Kara.

 

“How?”

 

“Keep him awake for the next twenty-four hours. No food, no water, no light. This time tomorrow I want him strapped to a gurney in the interrogation room.”

 


	25. The Voice Of God

He was cold, disoriented. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think straight. He reached for something to hold onto, but found nothing. Wading in a pool of thick liquid (rebirthing fluid, he realized) for a second he thought he must have resurrected; but where were his brothers and sisters? When would the calm of being home again kick in?

 

His heart was pounding in his ears, his legs were burning from the effort to keep his head above the water line and he still couldn’t think properly. He swished around in the tank again, trying desperately to find the edges, mounting panic in his voice when he called, “Brothers? Brothers, where are you?!”

 

His chin dipped and he ended up with a mouthful of the slime. Spluttering, he forced himself far above it again. “Where am I?” he asked quietly. “Brothers? Sisters? Where am I?!”

 

Exhaustion was filtering through his system and his legs were getting heavier and heavier. He was struggling to stay afloat. He could let go, he knew, die here and resurrect, but where was here? What if he was already dead? What if something had gone wrong and if he died here he never came back? Could he never go home? Could his soul still find its way to God, when he was so lost?

 

“Help me,” he murmured and swallowed another mouthful of rebirthing fluid. It tickled the back of his throat and he was dry reaching, coughing, choking. He desperately worked to breathe, to stay above the liquid.

 

“Leoben,” a gentle voice. “Leoben, can you hear me?”

 

He searched it out, but it was too dark. “Yes. Yes, I can hear you!” he screamed, adrenaline lifting him, hope winding its way around his heart. Was he resurrecting? He didn’t recognize the voice.

 

Hurriedly, he moved through the liquid. “Where are you? Where am I? You need to help me. I can’t ... I can’t see. My legs hurt. I’m going to drown.”

 

“I’m going to help you,” she said. “You need to stay calm, Leoben, I’m going to help you.”

 

So soft, so lyrical, like beautiful music. It warmed him and he clung to it like a lifeline. Such gentleness and hope in just a sound, and through his baffled mind, he knew. It must be the voice of God. He was dead, she was God and she was trying to find his soul. He just had to stay above the rebirthing fluid long enough for her to find him and take him home.

 

He was weeping before he even realized it.

 

A light came on above his head and he blinked up at it, his eyes burning. Now that he could see, he took in his surroundings, but beyond the light was nothingness, eternal black.

 

“Do you see the light, Leoben?”

 

“Yes. I see it.”

 

“Good,” she responded. “Stay in the light. Stay in the light and I can find you.”

 

“Please,” he begged. “You have to find me.”

 

“I’m going to. But I need you to tell me some things first. I need you to tell me about Sarah.”

 

“Sarah?”

 

Why would God need to know about Sarah? Didn’t God know already? Wasn’t God all-seeing? Surely there was nothing that he could tell her that she didn’t already know. He hesitated, doubt creeping in, but before he could focus on it, something brushed against his leg.

 

He whirled, panicking, as he felt something hit his foot. “There’s something in here with me!”

 

“Stay calm,” the voice told him. “Stay calm, Leoben. I’m going to get you out of there. Just tell me about Sarah. Tell me about what she’s going to do.”

 

“She’s ...” another brush on his leg. “Oh, God, please. You have to get me out.”

 

“I will. Just talk to me, Leoben. I’m not far away now, just keep talking to me. Tell me about Sarah. She’s dangerous.”

 

“Yes,” he whimpered, still frantically searching around himself.

 

“She has a bomb. You gave her a bomb.”

 

“I did,” he confessed. “You don’t approve? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Where will she plant it, Leoben? Tell me where she’s going to use it and I can stop her.”

 

He looked up at the light again. “If you stop her, you’ll forgive me? Forgive me my sins, God, please. I didn’t know ... I thought you meant for us ... I didn’t know. Forgive me.”

 

“I will,” she hummed in response and he was soothed. “I’ll forgive you. Just tell me her target.”

 

Another brush of his thigh, and then another quickly following it. He spun in the fluid, never so terrified in all his life. Demons were circling and God had yet to forgive him, to find him.

 

“The ball,” he said. “She’s going to wipe out the whole government. I didn’t know, I’m sorry, so, so sorry.”

 

And then whatever had been brushing against his leg had grabbed him and he screamed in pain and struggled with all his might against it. It was too strong, far too strong and it pulled him under. His mouth filled with rebirthing fluid and he held his breath, still desperately fighting, reaching up, up, towards the light that was getting further and further away.

 

Finally, he couldn’t fight his body’s responses any longer and his lungs filled with thick liquid. It stripped him of his remaining energy and he stopped struggling, sinking instead. The demons had him. He was going to burn in hell and already he missed the warmth of God’s voice.

 

Sure he was going to die, it was surprising to find himself able to breathe again, the light bright once more. “Shhh,” her voice soothed. “Sleep now, Leoben, I’ve got you.”

 

And when he looked up, he could make out her face. Only it wasn’t God at all, but rather the woman from his visions, the woman the hybrid’s spoke of. As he faded into unconsciousness, Leoben’s last sight was the face of the dying leader.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Will he survive?” Bill asked from his corner of the room, looking at the immobile form of their prisoner, strapped down on a bed with heavy leather clips.

 

Cottle glanced at him. “Should do. It was close though.”

 

The man had just given them the information he’d sought when his life signs had started going ballistic. He could tell Laura had wanted to push for any more information the arms dealer may have had, but Cottle had put an end to the interrogation and injected him with something to counteract the drugs they’d pumped him full of.

 

The Director was still standing beside the bed, her head dropped back as she rubbed at her neck, the flashlight dangling from her other hand. “We got enough. He confirmed the theory, that’s the important thing.”

 

It hadn’t been a difficult decision, which of them would perform the interrogation. Bill had been involved in some heavy stuff in his earlier days with the Fleet, including the HYPER program, but he’d only ever witnessed the methods used when Four-Seven-Six was administered. Laura herself, in her earlier days with the Agency, had led several sessions.

 

Information like that made him curios about her again. He knew she held many dark secrets, had done things in her past that she wasn’t proud of, had suffered through pains she’d never speak of, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to know everything he could about her, wanting to understand the burdens she carried on her shoulders.

 

“Take care of him,” Laura ordered the doctor and then headed for the door, Bill only a few paces behind her.

 

They headed for her office and when they were in an empty section of corridor, he asked, “What do we do now?”

 

“Everything we possibly can,” she stated, stopping and turning towards him. “Send bulletins to the locals about Baltar and his Cylon. Hopefully they’ll be spotted and we can move in and diffuse the situation long before the Ball. I’ll be speaking to a few Admiral’s tomorrow, will let them know what’s going on and see if they have any ideas. And I’ll also be making an impromptu visit to our President, see if I can’t get him to cancel the Ball.”

 

“Adar?” Bill questioned. “You know him?”

 

She started walking again. “I went to University with him.”

 

“Does he know about ...?” he trailed off, gesturing to the facility around them.

 

Laura shook her head. “I told you in one of our first meetings, we purposely keep the head of the civilian government in the dark.”

 

“Then how do you know he’ll listen?”

 

A touch of laughter in her voice. “Oh, I know he won’t listen at all.”  
  
“Why bother then?” Bill questioned.

 

“Because, there’s the slightest chance he’ll pull his head out of his ass and actually do what I ask of him. It’s unlikely, but as long as there’s a chance, I have to try.” She shook her head and then smiled at him. “Do you own a tux?”

 

Taken off guard at the question, Bill furrowed his brow and said, “No. Why?”

 

“Rent one. Because if worse comes to worst, you and I are going to a ball.”

 


	26. Politicians

Richard Adar wasn’t overly fond of the President’s Mansion. It was so big it was disconcerting, especially on nights like these when his wife and children were away and, except for the live-in staff, it was empty. It was the first time in a month that he was home before ten and he was starting to think he should have stayed at the office.

 

His jacket was over his arm and he was loosening his tie as he made his way into his study, draping them both over the chair in front of his desk and heading straight for the refreshment stand. He almost dropped a very expensive bottle of brandy as a near forgotten voice spoke.

 

“Hello, Richard.”

 

Spinning, he was startled to disbelief at the sight before him. Sitting on the couch beside the bookshelf, leaning casually against the arm with long legs crossed in front of her, was a vision from his youth. She was wearing reading glasses, her hair was longer, and there were lines on her face that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her, but there was no mistaking who she was.

 

He stammered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in a most humiliating manner, before he managed to voice her name. “Laura?”

 

“It’s been a long time,” she said quietly and he noticed for the first time that she’d been reading one of his first editions as she carefully closed it and placed it beside her.

 

“Twenty-seven years,” he responded absently, then looked around the room in confusion. “How’d you get in here?”

 

Her smile was positively enigmatic. “I have my ways.”

 

“My security - -“

 

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They’re good, but I’m better. Though I’ll be leaving a note on my way out on how they can patch up a few holes in their watch.”

 

He blinked a few times, still shocked by her appearance and then he shook it off and smiled in a way that only politics could teach you to do. “You look good.”

 

“You look tired.”

 

Laughing, Richard turned back to the stand and finished pouring his drink. He picked it up and moved over to lean against his desk, staring at her in amazement. “This is surreal,” he started, taking a long sip of the brandy. “I don’t see you or hear from you in almost thirty years and now ...”

 

“Here I am,” she smiled.

 

Here she was. The last time he’d seen her had been the day they’d broken up, her face furious as she packed up her things, told him what a jackass he was being, and then stormed out of his apartment. He’d not heard from her again and only the occasional update from their mutual friend Wally had let him know she was okay.

 

He’d had a lot of time to think over the failure of their relationship and though he knew he wasn’t solely to blame, it had been him trying to push her too far that had finally broken them. He remembered it so clearly, her naked body beneath his, writhing as she moaned into his ear and whispered the dirtiest of things that it was all he could do to hold on.

 

And then, those fateful words, leaving his mouth without his permission, so absorbed in watching her climax, losing his mind as he began to follow her, that he hadn’t been able to stop them.

 

_“Marry me.”_

 

As they’d cleaned up and dressed, the conversation had been most civil. He’d told her that though he hadn’t planned it, the proposal was sincere. The hesitation on her face had been enough for him to know how she was going to respond, so he’d cut her off.

 

 _“Don’t answer yet. Take some time, think about it.”_ So diplomatic, the almost-qualified lawyer in him had been quite proud.

 

The next words out of her mouth had knocked all the wind out of his sails and shattered his heart _. “I don’t need time, Richard. My answer is no. My answer will always be no.”_

 

Stung deeply, he’d lashed out. She’d fought back and for a few moments he’d even thought that the argument that followed would turn violent. They’d ended in anger and now she was sitting calmly in front of him, her smile gentle.

 

“Reminiscing?” she questioned.

 

He smiled back. “We were good together, most of the time.”

 

Most of the time, because the relationship had been a volatile one on many occasions. They’d argued quite a bit, but it had never been in the personal sense, more like a kind of heated debating that was their own version of foreplay.

 

She laughed. “No we weren’t, that was part of the appeal.”

 

“What went wrong?” he asked, though he didn’t really need an answer.

 

Laura told him anyway. “You wanted too much and I wanted too little.”

 

Scratching at the back of his head, he nodded. “And now, like you said, here you are. Why?”

 

“I’ve something to ask of you.”

 

He’d expected that, already realizing that her taking the time to sneak into his home and wait for him was not so they could dredge up old memories and talk about their days together. Nodding, he motioned her onwards, “Ask, Laura. And if it’s in my power, I’ll do it.”

 

“Don’t be so quick to say that,” she cautioned him. “It is in your power, but I’m sure you won’t do it. I want you to cancel the Colonial Day Ball.”

 

So surprised by the request, he actually laughed out loud. “Cancel my Ball? Why in the Gods names would I want to do that?”

 

“You won’t, but it’s important. Something is going to happen at that ball and I’m not sure I can stop it. Something terrible, Richard. Something that would devastate our entire society.”

 

His brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you threatening me, Laura?”

 

She actually had the nerve to laugh. “Not me, no. But there are powers at play that you know nothing about, Richard and if you continue on with the ball as if nothing is going to happen, then everyone there could die.”

 

Now he was just baffled. As far as he knew, Laura Roslin had a doctorate in education and now ran a very successful tutoring agency, the kind that rich people sent their children to to ensure they got into the very best universities. What the hell could a school teacher know about that he didn’t?

 

“I’m the President of the frakking Colonies, Laura. There’s very little that I know nothing about.”

 

She rebuked, “There’s actually quite a bit that you don’t know, but I won’t tell you. I’m asking you to trust me, Richard. Trust me when I tell you that there is a threat to the Ball and unless something changes drastically in the next three days, Colonial Day could end in disaster.”

 

“The last time we spoke, Laura, you didn’t even have your doctorate and you were telling me to pull my head out of my ass. How the frak are you qualified to warn me of such things? What the frak have you been doing the past thirty years?”

 

“I won’t tell you that either. But I am qualified. In fact, I’m the most qualified person in the Colonies and I am explaining to you that there is a very legitimate threat to the President’s Ball. I will do everything in my not insignificant power to prevent it, but I’m not sure I can. Cancelling the Ball is the only way to be sure that the structure of our community is left intact.”

 

He thought on it, his mind swirling with questions.

 

There was something in his mind screaming at him to believe her, not question it, just do it, an inkling in his mind that could remember her disappearances for days at a time during the end of their relationship and her secretiveness. At the time, he’d thought she was cheating on him. Now though, with this strange reappearance, his thoughts were drifting in a decidedly different direction.

 

Nonetheless, the request was so bizarre that he could barely even begin to comprehend it, not without all the facts. He’d never in all their time together doubted Laura, never thought her a drama queen or a troublemaker, but it had been almost three decades and who the hell knew what had changed about her.

 

Shaking his head, he told her, “I can’t. I’ve had a few political disasters this past year, the Ball is necessary for image. Besides, it’s Colonial Day and it’s tradition. What the hell would I tell the people?”

 

“You’d be alive in order to tell them something. Shouldn’t that be the important thing, rather than your image?”

 

“Give me something solid,” he pleaded. “Give me something, anything, so I can understand why you’re asking this.”

 

She sighed. “I can’t. I have it, but I can’t give it, Richard. There are some secrets that simply cannot be shared with such a public and powerful figure.”

 

“Then I can’t cancel the Ball.”

 

Laura nodded. “I had expected as much.” She rose from the couch, took a few steps towards him and gave him a sad smile. “I’ll do my best, Richard, I promise that.”

 

His lips quirked somewhat. “You always did do your best.” With an unsteady hand, he reached out, trailed his fingers down her arm and then tried to entwine them with his own. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Laura?”

 

This time her smile was wide and genuine. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She leaned forward, placed a light kiss on his cheek, and then began moving away from him. “I’ll see you at the Ball then.”

 

His eyebrows rose. “You’ll be there?”

 

“I haven’t been able to stop it, you won’t call the party off, so yes, I’ll be there. I’ll probably die along with you, but I’ll be there.”

 

At the last moment, he offered, “I can increase security.”

 

But she waved it off. “No. I’ll handle things and more of your security will just get in my way.”

 

His mind a jumbled mess, he watched her walk out, closing the door before he realized that he shouldn’t let her walk away, not again. Hurriedly, he raced for the door, but didn’t see any sight of her in the hallway outside of it. He strode up and down, searching rooms. He even checked in with his security and was told nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

 

Making his way back to his study, intent on another strong drink, he quietly questioned, “Who the frak are you, Laura Roslin?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Wally Grey’s first impression of the man was that he looked like a bald faced pit-bull. His second was that, standing beside Laura Roslin, he looked like a strikingly formidable counterpart to the strikingly formidable woman.

 

“It was good of you to make time for us, Wally,” Laura told him with a friendly smile as the waitress set coffee in front of them all.

 

“I learned long ago, Laura, that when you call, it’s better for me if I make the time, rather than not.” Then he glanced at each of them in turn. “What do you need?”

 

There was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes when she asked, “Can’t I just want to meet up with my oldest friend?”

 

“No,” he answered with a wide smile, his eyes flickering to Adama. “You can’t. I learned that long ago, too.”

 

“You make me sound like a horrible friend.”

 

“You are. Now what is it you need from me?”

 

She and Adama shared a look and then Laura flat out told him, “Tickets to the President’s Ball.”

 

Wally almost choked on his coffee. “You’re kidding,” he stated and it became very clear that she was not. “It’s two days away, it’s the biggest event on the political and social calendar and you think I can get you a ticket?”

 

“Four of them,” Laura clarified.

 

“Impossible,” Wally said. “I barely made the cut for the guest list, Laura. Hell, my boss had to beg and plead to get a few extra tickets and he’s the Vice President. The place is at capacity, no more names will be added to the guest list.”

 

With a sharp look, Laura met his eyes. “It’s imperative that we get in, Wally.”

 

He sat back in his seat. “How imperative?”

 

“Lots of people will die if we aren’t there, imperative,” the pit-bull answered.

 

Wally looked at Laura. “Should I be giving my notice and fleeing the city?”

 

“Probably,” she responded dryly.

 

“Getting the tickets won’t be easy,” he started, speaking slowly. “You’d be better off talking to Richard.” When he looked into her eyes, his brow raised in shock. “You did talk to Richard. My Gods, it’s really bad, isn’t it?”

 

“It’ll be worse if we aren’t there.”

 

He shook his head slowly and thought. There were a few strings he could pull, a few people on the organizing committee who owed him favors. It was doable, but, despite vaguely knowing that Laura meant dangerous situations, he wasn’t about to just hand them over without getting something in return.

 

“I may be able to get you three,” he told them.

 

Laura lifted and eyebrow and looked at Bill. “We could make it work. Have Lee or Kara in with the extra Fleet security you organized and the other agents, searching the rest of the building.”

 

Adama frowned and said, “Then we wouldn’t have their eyes inside the ballroom.”

 

Wally subtly rolled his eyes and then interrupted the two. “There is always the plus one on my ticket.” He gave Laura his widest grin.

 

Her lips quirked at the offer, amused. It was the pit-bull’s response that was more interesting however. The heavy lines on his face seemed to deepen as his eyes narrowed at Wally. Were it not for the fact they were in a public place with Laura sitting between then, Wally was sure he would have openly growled.

 

It was all Wally could do not to laugh in his face as he continued to grin at Laura. “I need a date and you always did dress up so well.”

 

A moment’s silence, then two. He was on the brink of breaking his thirty year promise of letting bygones be bygones by bringing up the fact that the last time she’d gone on a date with him, she’d ended up walking out with his best friend, when she agreed.

 

“Fine. But I won’t be a very good date, Wally. I’ll be working.”

 

“You can save the world while you’re there, Laura, but just walk in on my arm and allow me the first dance, that’s all I ask.”

 

Adama’s shoulders were somewhat slumped and he was glaring at Wally, but he remained silent when she nodded and stated, “We’ll pick you up from your apartment at seven. Don’t be late, we’ll be on a tight schedule.”

 

“I won’t be,” he promised, smiling widely as he stood, placed a kiss on her cheek, nodded his farewells to Adama, and then left the coffee shop.

 

There was somewhat of a spring in his step as he left. He’d been waiting over three decades for another date with Laura Roslin and though she may not be going with him because she loved the pleasure of his company, the look on Richard’s face when he saw them together was sure to be payment enough for the evening.

 


	27. The Calm

The hums and beeps of Life Station were beginning to grate on Laura’s nerves. Her skin was clammy despite the chill she felt, her head was throbbing, not overly painfully, but the pressure of the constant thumping was making her rolling stomach feel far worse.

 

She wanted to pull the drip out of her arm and flee. Go back to her suite, curl up in her own bed with the lights out and just sleep her way through it. She wanted to break something, so Gods damned sick and tired of feeling like this. She wanted to shove something up Doctor Cottle’s nose. He was the one insisting on the treatments, despite her wishes.

 

The only thing that calmed her was the deep rumble of Bill’s voice. When she squeezed her eyes shut she could almost block out everything else. He read from _Love and Bullets_ , quietly so as not to aggravate her senses, and she could almost lose herself in that low, rough timbre.

 

“’The guy looked as if he’d spent one too many nights on the strip, soaking in booze and sinking into loose hookers who’d seen better days. Shadows on his face and in his eyes and I knew that whatever he had to tell me, it wouldn’t be any pretty little tales.’”

 

Laura barely remembered the plot of the book, didn’t really care who killed who. The comfort came not with having her mind transported into a story, but rather with the mere presence of the man who sat at her side.

 

What it was about Bill Adama that gave her such a sense of security, she didn’t know, but right now, feeling the way she did, she wasn’t going to waste her energy thinking too hard on it, if only because she knew she’d manage to think her way out of allowing him to soothe her.

 

“’His voice was as dry as a Canceron wind when he told of his last night with Sheridan, ten cubits worth of her time in a run-down pay-by-the-hour motel. She’d been his favorite, he explained. He took her almost every night, shared cheap whiskey with her and then frakked her until he was satisfied. ‘Anything happen that weren’t like the usual?’ I asked and he gave me a smile that showcased gums that probably bled.

 

“‘Whaddya wanna hear, Detective? She pissed me off so I slit her throat? Make it a bit too easy for you if I was the guy who killed her, don’tcha think? I roughed her up some, I pay extra for it, ya’ see, like it when they fight me, but she ain’t no use to me now, is she? Waste of a damn good whore, you ask me.’”

 

Bill’s voice soothed her nausea, but Laura’s thoughts were still troubled. They’d be at ground zero tomorrow night, dead center sight of the blast, unless they could find a way to stop it. She’d already made plans with her section chiefs on the other worlds, to make sure they all knew what to do in the event that both she and the Chief died. Not to mention what they were to do if most of the government was wiped out.

 

Here she was, allowing the diloxin into her system in order to prevent her death, when the very next night she would be facing it in the form of a powerful explosive. So the point of today’s treatment was? To make Jack happy, she supposed.

 

The whole damn process was to make Jack happy, and because Billy had asked her to do as the doctor said. If it had been her decision, she would have told Cottle exactly where he could shove his treatment schedule. She didn’t want the diloxin, but she’d satisfied those around her with the promise of one round. If it didn’t work, she wouldn’t be continuing to try.

 

She opened her eyes when Bill’s voice trailed off and found him staring at her. Quietly, he asked, “You okay?”

 

“My mother died of breast cancer,” she told him, though she didn’t know why she had. He marked their page and closed the book, waiting patiently for her to continue, not saying a word.

 

She went on, “She was diagnosed when I was thirteen. She died two years later. My father had trouble coping, and my sisters were too young, so I took care of her. She was on diloxin and sometimes I was sure that it was worse than the cancer. I barely recognized her by the time she finally died. And I was relieved when she was gone, that it was over, for all of us. She wasn’t in pain any longer and we didn’t have to watch her suffer like that anymore.

 

“I won’t die like that,” she told him gravely, meeting his eyes. “I’ll accept this round of treatment, but if the cancer comes back, I won’t take anymore.”

 

Something like laughter bubbled from her throat. “I keep thinking about tomorrow night, how we might all die at Aphrodite Hall. And though I’ll do anything to stop it, there’s a part of me that wouldn’t mind going out like that. A bang, rather than a whimper.”

 

Bill smiled at her. “I can’t imagine you ever just fading away.”

 

Reaching out, she took his hand in her own and then curled up around it, closing her eyes again and trying to give in to the exhaustion she was feeling. There was some shuffling as he maneuvered enough to let her keep hold of him, and then the quiet rumble of his voice as he started to read again washed over her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Hey,” Lee said as he walked into the galley, surprised to find his partner already there, the sole occupant since it was almost three in the morning.

 

She was huddled at a table, a half eaten sandwich at her elbow, reports and the like scattered in front of her. “Hey,” she parroted, looking up at him. “What are you doing up?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing. You know how it is before a big op,” he shrugged, heading into the kitchen.

 

Kara nodded. “I haven’t even attempted to go to bed yet,” she told him as he found a still-hot pot of coffee and poured them both a cup as he opened the cupboard and nabbed a handful of cookies.

 

When he sat down at the table, he glanced over what she had spread out in front of her. “Local comm. transcripts?”

 

She nodded. “Just got out of the SecCenter, been listening in on the locals all night, hoping something will come of it.”

 

“They’re on alert, but Baltar and his Cylon are laying low,” Lee reminded her. “They’ve been invisible since they left the compound. I doubt we’ll find them before tomorrow night and even if we do, it’s likely the bomb has already been planted.”

 

“The old lady’s got marines and agents going over that building with a fine tooth comb. They’d be stupid to have planted it already, and neither of them have struck me as stupid yet.”

 

“Too frakking smart,” he agreed, sipping at his coffee.

 

Starbuck pushed the transcripts away from her and snagged one of his cookies. “Maybe we should just let it happen,” she suggested, leaving Lee gaping at her. “I’ve never much liked politicians anyway.”

 

Relieved she didn’t actually mean it, he laughed. “It’d be easier, that’s for sure.”

 

Turning serious again, Kara met his eyes. “Which is why we won’t do it. Too easy. We always gotta’ do it the hard way, don’t we, Apollo?”

 

He caught the subtle undertones in her words, but it was something they didn’t voice, so he didn’t commentate on it. Merely turned his eyes away from her and chewed thoughtfully, before he told her softly, “Not the hard way, Kara. We’ve always got to do it the _right_ way.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Billy rarely came to the bar. He didn’t drink very often and he never felt entirely comfortable mingling with the field agents. He wasn’t one of them, never would be and to be honest, they intimidated him somewhat, despite the fact that he knew, as most others did, that Laura Roslin was grooming him to take her place as the Director someday.

 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was immensely proud. That his mentor, the woman who had raised him since he was a teenager, would hold that much faith in him, made Billy want to puff his chest out and tell anybody who would listen. On the other hand, he’d seen firsthand the kind of stress a job like that put on somebody, had watched Roslin struggle daily with the burdens and responsibility she carried.

 

Sitting at the bar now, after going back behind it and pouring his own glass of water, he scanned the place. There were two other people present, side by side in a darkened corner, and the agent who had taken it upon himself to play bartender for the day, stocking the shelves.

 

The door opened, the setting sun bright as it lit the darkened bar and before his eyes could adjust, it was closed again. In the frame of it stood a young woman; not overly tall, with dark skin and one of the prettiest faces Billy had ever seen.

 

And she was here to meet with him.

 

She was only meeting with him because Chief Adama was far too busy planning for the President’s Ball, but Billy allowed himself a self-indulgent smile at the thought anyway. She nervously made her way towards the bar, looking around suspiciously, in the same manner that the other occupants of the room were eyeing her.

 

Hastily, Billy stood and intercepted her. “Anastasia Dualla?”

 

 “You’re the guy I talked to on the phone? Billy?”

 

“Yes,” he smiled. “The Chief is sorry he couldn’t meet you himself, but things are pretty crazy at the moment. You know why you’re here?”

 

She glanced around the bar again in a manner that indicated, no, she had no idea why she was in the run-down place exactly. “The Commander - - I mean, the Chief, said something about a job. I mustered out of the Fleet after Galactica was decommissioned, and I’ve been looking for work ever since. When Commander Adama called, saying he was looking for a personal assistant, I accepted immediately.”

 

“That’s the basic job description,” Billy said. “But it’s also a whole lot more. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to the facility and get you settled in.”

 

He began to lead her towards the storeroom and the hidden entrance, telling her as they walked, “I’m afraid with things being so up in the air right now that you’ll be thrown straight into it, but I’ve got some files for you to read through that’ll help you familiarize yourself with the job, and I’ll be there to help you.”

 

“The Commander - - Chief, sorry, that’ll take some getting used to - - said that he was working for some sort of classified security company.”

 

Billy laughed quietly. “Something like that. The Agency is a group of highly trained specialists committed to the protection of the Colonies and its citizens. It’s difficult to explain, really.”

 

She hesitated once they were in the catacombs and looked at him warily. “Are you sure Commander Adama sent you? Where are we?”

 

“The catacombs beneath Caprica City,” he told her, trying to soothe her fears. He could easily understand how this looked, a strange man leading her into isolated, darkened tunnels. “The facility is hidden in here. If you’ll trust me for a few minutes, we’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Okay,” she agreed slowly and Billy was amused to see that she kept a good deal of distance between them and a close eye on him.

 

“So,” he started, wanting to put her at ease with menial conversation. “You were with the Fleet?”

 

“Yes. I was a comms. officer for three years, two of which I served on Galactica, with Commander Adama.”

 

“You miss it?”

 

She shrugged. “Sometimes. I miss the people, mostly. I made some good friends while I was with the Fleet, but I’m happy to be back on solid ground. I only really joined because they gave me the opportunity to finish my education.”

 

Finally, they approached the entrance. Billy punched in his passcode, got them through security and then led her through the halls. He watched her amazed face the whole time. He’d never seen someone take it all in for the very first time before.

 

“All of this,” she said quietly as they moved through the agents bullpen, “hidden under Caprica City? And no one knows it’s here?”

 

“Only those of us who work here. That’s kind of the point, being a top secret organization and all.”

 

He led her to her desk and gave an over exaggerated flourish. “This is where you’ll be working. That’s my desk just there, the Chief’s office is just behind you.” Then he smiled widely. “Welcome to the Agency, Anastasia.”

 

“Dee,” she corrected, still looking around in amazement. “You can call me Dee.”

 

She kept staring at her surroundings and Billy kept staring at her. She really was very pretty. Thankfully, before he could open his mouth and make a complete fool of himself, the Chief bustled out of his office wearing a tuxedo and obviously struggling with the bow tie.

 

“Dee, good, you’re here,” he said with a warm, fatherly smile and the moment she saw him Dualla visibly relaxed. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to tie one of these damn things, would you?”

 


	28. The President's Ball

When Bill entered Laura’s suite, he was still twitching in the tuxedo. It made him uncomfortable and Dee’s proclamation of “You look very handsome, Sir,” had done nothing to put him at ease. One would think after so many years in the heavy wool of a Fleet uniform, and now in the suits he wore daily, he’d be fine in the tux, but the damn thing was making him feel like an overgrown monkey.

 

His eyes sought Laura the moment he walked in and he stopped dead in his tracks, only several paces within the door. She had one hand braced on her kitchen counter as she reached down to put her shoes on and she hadn’t even looked at him yet. Good thing, too, because he was struggling to breathe.

 

Her hair was up, pinned elegantly to the top of her head and exposing the length of her neck. His twitching became localized to a single appendage. Gods, he wanted to lick her from collarbone to ear, see what that creamy flesh tasted like.

 

Eyes traveling lower he knew he’d have to get a hold of himself before he turned into a drooling fool, but the sight of her in the slinky red dress, the material clinging to her curves perfectly, a good portion of cleavage pleasantly exposed and a slit up the leg that was positively pornographic had him feeling like a teenager who couldn’t control his body’s responses.

 

Without warning, he was thrust head first into a fantasy of epic proportions: _Bending her over the counter, sucking at her neck and Gods, she tasted fantastic, fingers sliding up the flesh the slit in the dress revealed, so smooth and perfect, tearing her underwear from her body because he just could not wait, his other hand hurriedly undoing the fastenings on his trousers and getting them out of the way._

_He’d stop then, because their first time wouldn’t be like this, not when he wanted desperately to see her face, to watch the heat crawl up her neck, to know what he was doing to her just by looking at her. Spinning her and pulling her against him, backing her into the wall, fingers drifting to the apex of her thighs and damned if just that one touch - and the moan he’d get from her, because she’d moan and hum and drive him into insanity - wasn’t enough to make him believe in the Gods._

_Her taking control, because he knew she would at some point, nimble fingers surrounding his cock and stroking with practiced ease, just enough to have him spiraling towards the ledge of a cliff there was no coming back from before she hiked one of them frakking incredible legs around his waist, the heel of those shoes digging into his ass, lifting herself, dropping herself. Frakking liquid heat that made his head spin as he found himself encapsulated inside of her, certain that he was about to spontaneously combust because he’d never felt anything so frakking fantastic for as long as he’d lived …_

 

Bill snapped himself out of it by sharply clearing his suddenly dry throat. The fantasy had been brief, but so real that he was feeling the effects physically, his dick straining inside his boxers painfully. He tried to calm down by telling himself the scenario wasn’t even possible, as his aging knees wouldn’t be able to take the strain of sex against the wall as well as his ego would like to believe they would. But …

 

Damned if he didn’t want her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

 

When he lifted his gaze again, he was startled to meet her eyes, amusement clearly shining in them, her mouth quirked in a way that said she knew exactly where his mind had been drifting to. And after she looked him up and down - he shifted uncomfortably and hoped that his pants were hiding his erection - her eyes resting on his again, a glance that told of mutual attraction was shared.

 

To hell with the frakking government and the bomb and that psycho Cylon and her puppy-dog scientist. Frak it all, he was staying in tonight and she was damned well staying with him.

 

“Well?” she questioned, twirling for his inspection.

 

 _You look so good in that dress that I won’t even be taking it off when I frak you,_ was one of the many unseemly thoughts that passed through his mind. Instead of voicing it though, he carefully cleared his throat again and told her, “That’s a nice color on you.”

 

She frowned somewhat and then her eyes shifted to just beyond his shoulder. “Billy?”

 

Bill hadn’t even heard him come in and really hoped he hadn’t been there while he was having knee-weakening mind sex with the kid’s surrogate mother.

 

From a few steps behind him, Billy told her, “You look, um, nice?”

 

Laura rolled her eyes. “Nice? If I didn’t know for a fact that you knew absolutely nothing about women, Wilhelm Keikeya, I’d be terribly offended.” Then her gaze shifted to Bill. “As for you, well, you’ve the rest of the evening to suitably compliment me.”

 

Oh, he certainly would. Whisper the filthiest of things in her ear about how damn sexy she was as he drove into her - -

 

He shook himself and forcefully reminded his wandering mind: _Mission. Bomb. Cylon. Dead government. Nasty things and not the good kind._

Bill and Billy followed her from the room, through her office and into the antechamber where Dee was sitting at her desk, reading through the material Billy had provided her with.

 

“You must be Miss Dualla,” Roslin formerly greeted, moving over to shake the younger woman’s hand. “I’m Laura Roslin.”

 

Dee rose from her chair and rounded the desk in a hurry, her back military straight. “The Director, yes, ma’am.”

 

“We’ll be out for the night, obviously,” she started, glancing at Bill in a way that seemed to say, _Hopefully, we’ll be home,_ “So I’m sure you and Billy can get all the basics covered on what will be expected of you.”

 

Dualla gestured to the stack of paper on her desk. “Already working on it, ma’am.”

 

Laura nodded. “Good.”

 

She opened her mouth to say more but was cut off with the loud arrival of Kara Thrace. “Woah-ho, Madame D, you are smokin’.”

 

Lee was trailing in behind her and Bill thought both of them looked very smart. His son seemed to have had no problem with his bow tie, the young man looked impeccable, and Kara’s blue dress was lovely. Putting out of his mind for a moment the reason they were actually all dressing up so nicely, Bill smiled at the sight of them.

 

“You clean up rather nice yourself, Starbuck,” Laura responded with a smirk.

 

“She’d be a proper lady if she could learn to shut up,” Lee quipped, moving to stand in front of the Director. “You, ma’am, look beautiful.”

 

With a raised eyebrow and a reproachful look at Bill and Billy, she replied, “At least there’s one man in this office who knows how to talk to a lady like a gentleman.”

 

Then she looked at the other three in formal clothing very seriously. “Everyone ready for this?” The mood turned grim, but they nodded. “Good.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

There was an open bar. He’d considered staying away from it, as he was on the clock and the alcohol they were serving was not only the really good stuff, but the really potent stuff as well. But Bill had never been a mingler and he’d looked and felt out of place standing beside the food table.

 

Not to mention that watching Laura walk in on Wally Gray’s arm had him hankering for a whiskey. He sipped at the beverage and scanned the room carefully. So far, he didn’t see a sign that anything was out of place, which was frustrating because he knew there was.

 

Socialites chatted about the trivial things that such people occupied their lives with; Admiral’s and higher up Fleet officials – all of whom he’d avoided all night – had had their medals and pips pompously polished; and there was more back door politicking than Bill could throw a stick at. And while all this turned his stomach, he’d yet to see hide nor hair of the terrorist plot that had required their presence.

 

Elsewhere in and outside of the building, there were agents milling around, discreetly searching, but so far nothing. Bill felt useless. He was pretty sure nothing of import would be in the main ballroom. It wasn’t like the Cylon would have the bomb stashed inside the cake that was due to be wheeled in within an hour, as baking high explosives wasn’t the best of ideas. So what the frak were they doing exactly?

 

Laura had said they were to keep their eyes open for anything suspicious. Anything at all that might lead them to the location of the bomb, might help them find Baltar and his Cylon. With a frustrated sigh, Bill took a long sip of the whiskey and stared around the room again.

 

Other than being pissed at how low that particular Quorum members hands were on Laura’s back, he didn’t see anything. He turned back to the bar, but before he could order another drink – probably not the best of ideas, really – the phone in his pocket started vibrating.

 

He pulled it out and looked at the screen. While it looked like the average portable phone that most people in the Colonies carried these days, it was special Agency equipment. The line was continuously scrambled, only other Agency phones were able to connect to it, there was a code he had to input into it to use it, and the single tap of one button sent out an emergency signal.

 

Now if only he could find the button that opened messages.

 

A slender arm wound over his shoulder and tapped the button, the voice on the other end of it telling him in an amused tone, “This one.”

 

He gave Laura half a smile, but it dropped the moment he read the message. “Just got a hit off the locals. Baltar and his special friend have been spotted.”

 

Laura subtly tapped at her ear. “Apollo, you hear that?” In both their ear-pieces was an affirmative response. “You and Starbuck get your asses out of here. Call into the office, get the location and move out. Patch yourselves through to the locals on the way, make sure they sit on them.”

 

“Already heading for the door, ma’am,” Lee responded.

 

“Try and keep them alive,” she ordered. “We need to know what they’ve done with the bomb.”

 

Another affirmative response and then the line cut out and Bill met her eyes. “Looks like we’re catching a break.”

 

“Hopefully it won’t be the last of the night.”

 


	29. Dancing The Night Away

Laura had wanted nothing more than to say no when Richard Adar asked her to dance, but one simply does not turn down the President, especially at his own ball. He’d practically ignored Bill as he’d slipped away from the ever present group surrounding him, interrupted an important conversation and requested the next dance.

 

Bill, in that mulish way of his, had simply held out his hand to take her wine glass, transferring his glower from the President, to her and then to his whiskey.

 

“Everything seems to be going smoothly,” Richard commented as they danced, a bit too smugly for Laura’s frayed nerves.

 

She briefly wondered how long she would get before his security detail shot her dead if she cold clocked him. An outwardly pleasant smile was plastered on her face as she replied, “It always seems to go smoothly, Richard. That’s why everyone is always surprised by the death toll.”

 

He ignored the comment. One of the sticking points in their relationship years before had been his remarkable gift of selective hearing. Richard was a man who only ever heard what he wanted to hear.

 

Instead of responding, he completely changed tracks. “You left the other night before I could ask you if you were seeing anybody?”

 

“Are you?” she parried, throwing an obvious look at where his wife was chatting with several dignitaries.

 

He laughed. “Point. The thing is, you’ve piqued my interest, Laura. I’ve always been interested in you, truth be told, but now decades have passed and you’re a woman full of warnings and secrets with the ability to sneak into the President’s Mansion without anybody ever knowing you were there.”

 

“I’ve always been full of secrets, Richard, and you’d do well to remember that secrets are usually just that because they shouldn’t be shared.”

 

The song ended, another beginning, but before she could move away, he was adapting to the new beat and pulling her closer. “I’m the President of the Colonies.”

 

“I know, Richard. I voted for you.”

 

That seemed to pull him up short. “You did?” Then he smiled and moved on. “You did. Well, then you were one of the millions who decided I was the best person to govern the Colonies. So why don’t you trust me with the things you’re hiding?”

 

“Because it’s my job to doubt you.”

 

And then, thankfully, Bill was there, his hand coming to rest on her back below the President’s in a clear territorial gesture as he asked, “Mind if I cut in, Mister President?”

 

A moment in which she knew that he wanted to deny the request before appearances kicked in and he graciously stepped back. “Not at all.” Then he leaned in close to Laura and said, “Just remember, Laura, the cubit stops with me. I’m in charge of the Colonies and when I want to find out something, I do.”

 

“I’d like you to remember something too, Richard. You have already realized that I’m no school teacher. What I am is far more powerful than you can imagine. If you want to stay in charge, you’ll back off.”

 

“Is that a threat?”

 

“You bet your ass it is.”

 

She didn’t wait to see his reaction as she stepped into Bill’s arms, but she did see her Chief’s satisfied smirk. He couldn’t wipe it off his face as he led her across the dance floor, as far away from the President’s wandering hands as he could.

 

“You’re a terrifying woman, Laura Roslin,” he commented, meeting her eyes and grinning. “Unarmed and in that dress and all. That’s kinda sexy.”

 

“Kind of?”

 

Bill just smiled wider and it was distracting. Too distracting. He smelt good, he felt good and his eyes were locked on hers and it was enough to make the entire ballroom fade away. Had they not been jostled by another couple, she might have thrown caution to the wind right there and then.

 

As it was, she was brought back to reality and forcefully reminded of where they were, and why. Her eyes scanned the room, as they’d been doing all night, but there was nothing and it was starting to drive her crazy.

 

“I shouldn’t have gone to see him the other night. I’ve only made him curious and if he starts digging, it could endanger the secrecy of the Agency.”

 

Bill shrugged. “You didn’t have a choice. You had to at least try. Now if this place does blow up, at least we’ll know we did everything we could.”

 

“Hopefully Kara and Lee will call in soon to say they have our targets and their weapon.”

 

Even as she said it, she felt him tense up and knew that they wouldn’t be so lucky. “Look,” he whispered in her ear and then spun her around.

 

A brief scan, and she knew. “Frak. Looks like we’ve found another model.”

 

Because, even though he was in a holding cell underneath the city, Leoben Conoy was on the other side of the room, dressed in an expensive tuxedo, smiling widely and shaking hands with the Quorum member from Aerilon.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Kara and Lee checked their weapons at the end of the hall and using nothing more than eye contact to communicate, agreed they were ready. A hand gesture and their back-up (they were going with the adage, less is more, due to the single entry point), Jammer, shuffled forward as quietly as possible, taking up a position at the other end of the hall.

 

They’d arrived at a rundown dive of an apartment building a few minutes before, flashing badges at the two uniformed police officers and getting their story.

 

They’d been getting coffee a few blocks away when she’d walked past the shop. Of course, being men, they’d noticed her straight away and had both eyed her legs for several long moments before one had said to the other, “Hey, doesn’t she look familiar?”

 

“Oh yeah,” the other one had responded. “She looks like that woman on the bulletin.”

 

They’d gotten back in their patrol car, where they’d discreetly tailed her and checked said bulletin _. Extremely dangerous, do not approach._

 

So they called it in. The Agency had arrived in force shortly after, several heavily armed agents in the region being diverted. They’d set up barriers on every entrance into the building, pinned down the room they were looking for, and waited for Agents Adama and Thrace to arrive, per their orders.

 

It wasn’t long before elevators had been disabled, snipers were in position, and Lee and Kara, with only Jammer to watch their backs, were lone wolfing it into the building.

 

Outside the door, they met eyes and simultaneously nodded. Kara dropped to her knee while Lee stepped back and aimed his weapon right at eye level in case the door were to open. With a flick of her wrist, Kara held a thin, long mirror, which she slid beneath the door.

 

A second later she withdrew it and let them know what she saw: Two targets, one near, one far, neither armed. Another hand signal, and Jammer was attaching a small block of explosives to the lock.

 

They backed off and the former marine waited for the order from Apollo. _Three, two, one, **Boom**!_ The door was barely off its hinges before they were breaching the room and all hell was breaking loose.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bill and Laura took up positions on opposite sides of the room so they could discreetly watch the Leoben Cylon wherever he went. He didn’t seem to be going anywhere, though. For a good twenty minutes, he talked his way around the room like a suave politician, only stopping by the bar once to get a refill on his drink.

 

They were hoping for at least a bathroom break to take him down. With no word from Lee or Kara, both of them were getting antsy. Bill, who couldn’t seem to stop patting the bulge beneath his jacket, didn’t see the problem with simply walking up to him, introducing himself, and then shooting him. But Laura had vetoed the suggestion.

 

Something about exposing themselves, causing a scene, risking their own lives when the room’s security started shooting at whoever had the gun. Oh and that little part about them still having no idea where the bomb was and if they let him lead them to it, or took him alive and got the information from him, they could maybe neutralize the threat to the government.

 

It was sound logic, but Bill still wanted to shoot him. He’d had enough of the Cylons when he’d been young and energetic enough to fight them in the war. All these years later, wearing human faces and no longer honorable enough to just fight out in the open, they made him sick.

 

Finally, the bastard made a move towards the exit. Bill met Laura’s eyes and they followed. They met up with each other at the massive grand doors to the ballroom in time to see him casually strolling out the front door.

 

“Where’s he going?” Bill muttered rhetorically.

 

A tap of an earpiece and Laura was questioning, “Highriser One, do you have a visual?”

 

A tinny voice came back over the comm. line, “ _I have a clear shot of the target, Ma’am_.”

 

“Hold your fire,” she ordered as they kept on his tail, across the driveway and into the car park.

 

He headed into the city, crossing a busy street. They almost lost him when a bus stopped right in from of them, but were quick enough to see him enter the Coliseum, an upscale hotel in the center of town.

 

“ _Lost line of sight. Highriser One no longer has the shot_.”

 

Bill and Laura went inside. The lobby was decadent, expensive flowers adorning every surface, antique furniture and gold trimming everywhere. People bustled by and they lost sight of him until Laura caught a glimpse as one of the elevator doors closed.

 

She strode to the main desk, pulled a badge out of Bill didn’t know where, and asked the clerk in an undeniably authoritive manner, “The gentleman in the tuxedo who just passed through here, which room?”

 

“I’m sorry?” the young man stammered, looking from her badge, to her dress, to Bill’s suit and back.

 

“Which room is he staying in?”

 

Another agent – Bill was slowly learning their names, but he didn’t recognize this one – strode in behind them, decked out in full assault gear. Many of the well off who stayed in the hotel eyed him with fright before hurrying out into the city night.

 

The clerk’s eyes widened when he saw the young man’s crew cut and assault rifle. He flicked his gaze back to Laura, “Um, Mr. Delany?”  
  


“The guy who just walked through here in the tux,” Bill reiterated. “About this tall, clean shaven, short blonde hair.”

 

“Nice smile,” Laura added and Bill shot her a glare, which she blatantly ignored.

 

“Yes, Mr. Delany. He’s in the VIP suite. Top floor.”

 

“Stay with him and make sure he doesn’t get word off to Mister Delany,” Laura instructed the agent and she and Bill hurried to the lift.

 

Once inside and on the way up, she said, “We should have gotten more back up.”

 

“We can take him,” he offered as he removed his pistol from its holster.

 

“And if he has the bomb with him? This hotel is only a block away from Aphrodite Hall, if it blows here it will still take it out. Along with another two blocks.”

 

Bill shrugged, distracted by her hefting her dress to show a vast expanse of upper leg and a black garter which, he noted as he managed to remove his eyes from her skin for a second, wasn’t so much a garter as a holster.

 

“The bomb tech can be here in less than five minutes if need be,” he stated as she pulled her gun out of it. “How the frak did you walk with that thing there?”

 

“Practice,” she responded absently as she flicked off the safety.

 

He was sure he’d never been so happy to be in a tux. His thoughts snapped back to the mission when the door to the elevator pinged open. Only one room on the top floor, as there was a short hall and then the door.

 

Laura tapped her earpiece again. “Shut down all power to the building.”

 

Several seconds later and the hall went black. The flashlights on the end of their guns were flicked on and side by side, they moved towards the door.

 

She glanced at him and he frowned in response. No way in hell was he kicking the frakking thing in. Did she not know just how sore his knee would be in the morning if he did that?

 

She sighed, rolled her eyes and reached up into the bun on her head. A moment later and she held not just a hair pin, but a small flat blade as well. Bill just shook his head at her and then watched in interest as she bent down to the lock.

 

One of those ones that take a card, but apparently Laura could handle those just as well as she could the crappy key locks like that on his front door. She slipped the pin into the card slot, jamming it in there, then pried open the mechanism with the blade. That done, she reached into her bra this time (Bill did not at all avert his eyes) and withdrew a tiny, thin metal rod.

 

“You got an assault rifle in there somewhere, too?” he whispered.

 

A dark look in his direction, before she started poking around inside the locking mechanism. He was positively amazed when it clicked unlocked.

 

She dropped her tools, picked her gun back up and then nodded at him. This time, he was happy to kick the door open.  It smashed loudly against the wall as they hurried inside, only to stop short just a few feet in.

 

There, in the middle of a fancy sitting room, was a pleasantly smiling Leoben, standing beside several kiloton’s of explosive device. It only took a second for the two of them to see that the lights on the screen atop it were flashing.

 

“You’re too late,” the Cylon stated calmly, a sense of satisfaction about him, the lights from the ends of their guns giving his face an eerie glow.

 


	30. The Big Bang

Events moved so quickly in Baltar’s dingy little apartment that it would have been difficult for an onlooker to follow. But Lee had been trained, first as a viper pilot, than as an agent. He was used to processing things at high speed and reacting just as quickly.

 

He took in the open planned room. Kitchenette on one side, two couches and a small table dead center. Baltar screamed and dropped to the ground, covering his head. The Cylon was quick to move and in an instant she’d armed herself with a gun that had been resting on the kitchen counter.

 

She fired off a shot, and both he and Kara fired back, but she was moving too fast, throwing herself across the room behind a couch.

 

“Frak,” Kara hissed and Lee turned towards her.

 

Jammer was on the ground, his hand to his neck and blood seeping between his fingers. They grabbed him by the tac vest and dragged him behind the other couch. The Cylon sent a hail of bullets over their heads. There was no time for emergency first aid, so Lee instructed Jammer, “Keep as much pressure on it as you can.”

 

Then he stood and sent two of his own bullets back. They missed. Kara repeated his action as he dropped down and took in the other agent’s pallor. Pale and shaking like a leaf.

 

“I’m alright, sir,” he tried to convince him, but Lee knew, from how weak his voice was, that he was lying.

 

Kara fired a few more shots, then crouched beside him and changed the clip. Lee told her, “He’s bleeding out. We’ve got to finish this.”

 

In the background the scientist was screaming, “I’m innocent! Don’t shoot me! Please, don’t shoot me!” and other things along that vein.

 

They both ignored him, trying to figure out a way to end it quickly. Then Kara cocked her weapon, shrugged, and leapt over the couch.

 

“Starbuck!” Lee yelled, standing up and covering her.

 

A good thing he did, as the moment she’d put her boot on the coffee table and launched herself off of it, the Cylon stood and aimed directly for her chest. Lee fired, grazing her arm and forcing her shot wide. Kara was flying over the couch and bodily slammed into the other blonde, both of them tumbling to the ground.

 

Already moving towards them, Lee hesitated when he heard the shot.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Guns aimed at the point between Leoben’s eyes, neither Laura nor Bill said anything for a moment after his proclamation. The bomb was active, it was going to detonate.

 

“Tell us how to turn it off,” Laura ordered the Cylon, but he made no move to do so.

 

In fact, he grinned at her. “It’s such an honor to be here with you, Laura Roslin. I’ve been dreaming of you for so long. One of my visions was just like this. The dying leader, come to save everyone again.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Bill saw her start at the words. He wanted to ask, but Leoben was purposely wasting time. He fired his weapon at a point just above the things head and demanded, “Shut the frak up and tell us where the frakking off switch is.”

 

“The hand of Zeus,” he claimed, turning his smile on Bill. “Side by side, just like the hybrid said you would be. Events are unfolding. Not as they should, but how they will be. God’s plan is ever evolving.”

 

Laura pulled the trigger, but it was no warning shot. The bullet hit precisely where she aimed, his knee, and he cried out and crumpled to the ground. She took a few steps closer and repeated, “Tell us how to turn it off.”

 

“I’ll die by your hand and be reborn,” he gasped, clutching his wounded appendage. “And I’ll be hailed as a hero because I’ll not only cut off the serpents head, I’ll take you with me too. The most dangerous foil in all our plans, and you’ll die alongside me.”

 

“That’s a no?”

 

He smiled again. “We’ll die together, Laura. It’ll be an honor.”

 

“Then I’ve no use for you.”

 

And she pulled the trigger again and sprayed Leoben’s brain on the plush carpet. Before Bill had a chance to take it in, she was moving towards the bomb, speaking into her comm., “Get the bomb tech on his way and on the line.”

 

Bill, sick at the sight before him, moved to join her, stepping around the body. The bomb itself was a large metallic orb, with a flat screen on the top. That was it. No big red button that said _Off,_ or anything of the kind. He really wished he’d paid more attention at War College when they’d done the unit on explosive devices.

 

“ _Three minutes from your location, Director_ ,” came a voice over their ear pieces.

 

“I don’t think we have that long,” Bill commented, watching the blinking lights get faster and faster, spiraling into an end game.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Starbuck’s only thought as she dove over the couch had been about time and how, for Jammer, and the government, and the old lady and chief, it was running out. When she’d slammed into the other woman, her mind had briefly diverted to the fact that Cylon’s were just as solid as humans, if not more so. She jarred her shoulder hard as she hit, grunting as her momentum pushed them both back.

 

They’d tumbled to the ground together, the gun sliding just out of reach of both of them. Kara was in a prime position to kick the Cylon in the face, so she did just that, sending her sprawling back, but unfortunately, closer to the weapon.

 

So she dove again and straddled her, her knees firmly planted on the Cylon’s upper arms. But she hadn’t been quick enough and a moving arm was all the warning she had before there was a loud _crack!_ and searing pain just above her knee had thrown her off balance.

 

Her leg burned like nothing else ever had, blood was pouring from her wound and she was blinking back tears when the Cylon turned the tables, spinning Kara onto her back on the floor and gaining the advantage. A hard punch by an inhuman hand across the face had Starbuck seeing stars.

 

And then Lee was there.

 

He came racing around the couch and tackled the Cylon. She was thrown off guard enough for him to start slamming the butt of his gun against her skull. Again and again and again. Blood splattered on his face with every blow. Even when Kara could see that the Cylon was well and truly beaten, Lee kept hitting her.

 

It wasn’t until Kara shouted at him, “Lee, stop! You got her!” that he eased up.

 

He sat back on his haunches, flipped the Cylon over and tightened cuffs around her wrists, then he looked over at Starbuck and let out a deep breath, telling her, “I thought she shot you.”

 

“She frakking did!” she exclaimed, as she pulled herself into a sitting position, held onto her wound and rocked back and forth in a futile attempt to keep the pain at bay. “Frakking psycho synthetic bitch did frakking shoot me!”

 

Lee huffed out a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

And even though her leg was scorching in a way she’d never experienced before and hoped to holy Hades to never experience again, she managed a wan smile back.

 

But before she could say something, anything, to reassure him, another shot echoed in the room and they both realized that Baltar was no longer yelling.

 

**~~~~~**

“ _I’m heading up the stairs now, ma’am. Third floor_.”

 

“You’re going to have to walk me through this, Travis,” Laura told the young agent on the other end of the comm.

 

“ _Describe the device_.”

 

“It’s spherical, a flat base,” Bill told him. “Metal panels with a screen on the top.”

 

 “ _Check the metal panels. Most will be soldered together, but one will be screwed on._ ”

 

The flashlights on their guns flickered across the bomb, until Bill found it at the back, directly below the screen. “Got it.”

 

“ _Pry it open, but watch out for a trip wire_.”

 

Bill looked at Laura as she unclipped a silver bracelet from her wrist, then seemed to slide a casing off it, revealing a short scalpel like knife, rubber down one end, glinting metal down the other. She popped a cap off a sharpened tip.

 

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, moving aside to let her in close.

 

He held the torch while she used the knife to undo the screws. Then, with far steadier hands than he would have, she slid it into the crease and gently popped the panel open. A brief flash with the light and a very fine, tightly coiled wire was visible.

 

“ _Cut it, but be careful not to put any tension on it,_ ” was the instruction they received. “ _Just passed the eighth floor landing._ ” The poor kid was heavily panting.

 

Bill held the panel slightly away from the rest of the bomb while Laura slipped her fingers in behind it. She gripped the wire and then cut it, allowing Bill to pull it away and toss it aside.

 

“Travis,” she started, both of them staring at the mass of colored wires. “What’s next?”

 

_“It has a doomsday clock?”_

 

“Yes,” Laura told him, both of them taking a quick glance at the pulsing lights.

 

A moment of silence and then, _“Is there a chance the bomb could be booby trapped, Director?”_

 

“It’s almost a certainty, Travis,” she stated, sharing a look with Bill after they’d both briefly glanced at the dead body next to them.

 

_“Alright then, we’ll forget the timer. What you have to do is disconnect the explosive from the detonator. Do you see the blast cap? It’s usually a thin metal tube.”_

 

Laura moved some wires aside. “Got it.”

 

_“Cut the wire leading into it.”_

 

“Just cut it?”

 

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

 

A look shared with Bill and then both of them were holding their breaths. “Here goes,” she muttered and lifted her knife to it.

 

~~~~~

 

Kara and Lee both grabbed their guns. Lee dove to his feet, weapon aimed and ready to fire, while Kara rolled herself to the side of the couch and lay on her stomach, pointing in the direction of the shot.

 

“Please, no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just wanted to get out of here!” Baltar was yelling.

 

In front of him, blocking the door he’d tried to escape through and leaning heavily on the jamb, panting and shaking, was Jammer, his gun aimed at Baltar’s chest. Even as Lee started moving, he started to slide back down to the ground, the arm holding his weapon falling uselessly to his side.

 

Kara got on the comm. and ordered a med team immediately, while Lee headed straight for Baltar, who started back away from the irate agent.

 

“No. You don’t understand. I’ve done nothing wrong! She forced me! She made me do it! I didn’t want to. You have to believe me, please. I didn’t want to.”

 

When Lee was in his face he offered one last plea, “Do you know what she is?!”

 

His two fellow agents bleeding, the adrenaline of the firefight still rushing through his veins, Lee punched him in the face. Baltar went down like a sack of bricks and didn’t get back up again. For good measure, Lee got Kara’s cuffs and tied him up.

 

“I know what she is,” he muttered to the unconscious scientist as he tightened the braces perhaps just a touch too much. “What I’m wondering is what the frak you are.”

 

~~~~~

 

Nothing happened. The bomb didn’t go off. But nor did the lights stop flashing. In fact, they started flashing faster.   
  
“We’ve got a problem, Travis,” Bill commented and then told him, “It’s still active.”

 

_“Then that was probably the decoy. I’m on floor seventeen.”_

 

“What do we do, agent?” Laura questioned tersely.

 

_“You’re going to have to look deeper into the device, find another blast cap. That’ll be your primary detonator. The trouble will be finding it.”_

 

Especially through all the wires. Frustrated, and certain they were about to blow up, Bill grabbed a handful of them. Laura barely got out a cry of surprise before he’d yanked a heap of them out of the way. They paused for a moment, both watching the weapon for any sign of … boomness and then breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief a second later.

 

Laura glared at him. “I should shoot you for that.”

 

“Do it later, someone’s got to hold the torch and my hands are too big to get in there.”

 

She turned her attention back to the device and after she told him, “I need more light,” Bill unclipped the flashlight from the end of his gun and held it close. A few very long seconds later and she said, “I think I’ve found it.”

 

 _“Cut the wire,”_ Travis ordered.

 

“There are two, Travis.”

 

_“One’s probably a secondary trigger.”_

 

“Which one?”

 

_“I can’t say for sure.”_

 

“How far away are you?” she questioned.

 

He was puffing when he responded, _“I’m two flights down, ma’am, but even if I were there, I couldn’t tell you which wire. You have to guess.”_

 

“The fate of the Colonies rests on a guess?” she questioned and Bill knew, had the tech been in the room, the look on her face, rather than the very large bomb, would have chased him right back out.

 

As it was, his response was hesitant. _“I’m sorry, ma’am.”_

 

“Frakking spy novel clichés. Red or blue?” she asked, meeting Bill’s eyes.

 

Travis told them, _“Color doesn’t matter.”_

 

But Laura was talking to Bill. And he didn’t have time to think about it. The lights on top of the bomb were pretty much a constant blink now. So he said the first thing that came to his mind, “Red,” and wasn’t about to tell her that the dress she was wearing was what made him say it.

 

“We’re probably going to die here …” she started, then stopped and swallowed heavily.

 

But he knew where she was going with the train of thought, so he said, “Yeah,” and then, his stomach clenching uncomfortably, leaned forward and kissed her.

 

And since they were going with the theme of clichés tonight, time stood still. His breath left him, his head swam in the softness of her lips, but the kiss was anything but soft. It was passionate, a clash of tongues and deep seated desire, tainted with near death and unspoken words.

 

He only broke away from her because time wasn’t actually at a standstill and the bomb started to beep. Laura shook herself and turned back to it, raising her knife and sliding it into the belly of the device. Breaths held again, they went for take two.

 

She cut the red wire.

 


	31. Nothin' But The Rain

After all the excitement of the evening, the Agency’s facility was quiet and still. Billy found Dee in the mess, nursing a cup of coffee and staring off into space. As unobtrusively as he could, he filled his own cup and then slipped into the seat across from her.

 

He waited until she focused on him to ask, “How was your first day?”

 

“Is it always like this?” she asked in awe.

 

They’d spent the evening in the briefing room with most of the other personnel that’d been in the facility, patched into the communications system, listening in a tense atmosphere as the nights events had unfolded. They’d heard warnings and updates and gunshots and a call for an emergency medical team with the cry they all dread, _“Agent down!”_

 

And they’d heard Roslin and Adama decide on a whim which wire they would cut, with thousands of lives, including dozens of agents, the Director and Chief themselves, and the entire government, hanging in the balance.

 

They’d gotten lucky. Coin toss lucky. The red wire had been the right choice. Billy thought that maybe a higher hand had influenced the Chief’s choice.

 

He chuckled at Dee’s question. “Sometimes it’s even exciting.”

 

She gave him a warm smile in return, then shook her head and sipped her coffee. Once her cup was placed back on the table she confessed, “I felt so useless. In the Fleet, in CIC, there are so many things to do that you can at least pretend to keep yourself busy. But tonight, sitting there and just listening …”

 

She trailed off, but he understood perfectly. Billy had been practically raised in the Agency. He’d spent so many of his nights as a teenager sneaking into the back of briefing rooms where the agents couldn’t see him and listening to ops go down.

 

He’d never really desired to go out there with them, but he often wished there’d been something he could do to help them.

 

He’d said as much to Roslin once and she’d smiled and told him, _“You don’t even see what you do here, do you, Billy? You’re one of the people they’re coming back to and it may be the most important thing, when you’re in the field, to have someone keeping the lights on at home.”_

 

“We wait for them,” he told Dee, Laura’s voice in his head. “We keep the lights on for them. And we’re the ones who make sure they know everything they possibly can before they go out there, so that they have a better chance at getting back. Forewarned is forearmed, the Director tells me.

 

“I know you feel like you aren’t helping any, but you are. Keeping them organized and informed keeps them alive. And waiting for them, making sure they know that there are people who’ll care if they don’t come back, that’s important too. Some incentive to survive. And as long as they live, they can protect the Colonies. So don’t think we aren’t doing our part.”

 

Her smile was even wider this time. He tried with all his might to stop the blush from rising to his cheeks when she reached over and placed her hand over his, gratefully saying, “Thank you.”

 

Billy asked, “Do you have a place in the city?”

 

“I’m renting a small apartment.”

 

“Then come on,” he told her, standing up. “It was a busy night, so it’ll be an even busier day dealing with the aftermath. We need all the rest we can get. I’ll walk you home.”

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I want to.”

 

~~~~~

 

Life Station was dark and quiet, bar the beeping monitor she could hear in the distance. Her limbs were heavy from the sedative, her throat was dry and her vision was blurry, but Kara Thrace was still able to smile when she saw the fuzzy outline of her partner asleep in the chair beside her bed.

 

On her good side too, so she was able to slip a leg out from beneath the sheets and poke him with her foot. He whacked her away with his hand once, but the second time he startled awake. He took one look at her foot in his face, grabbed her ankle and dropped it back on the bed.

 

“What do you hear, Starbuck?”

 

“Nothing but the rain,” she managed to rasp, sitting up and drinking greedily from the glass of water he hurriedly poured.

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“Like I got shot,” she quipped and glared at her injured leg as if it were responsible and not the Cylon. “How’s Jammer?”

 

Lee glanced at the curtains blocking them from view, presumably in the direction that the other fallen agent was. “Doc says he should be fine. He lost a lot of blood, but you know how it is around here. Before they’d even gotten you two into surgery there were twenty agents lined up at the door wanting to donate.”

 

“Everything else?” She vaguely remembers the trip back to the facility, was sure that Lee told her the bomb had been rendered inert, but the details were hazy.

 

“Everything’s okay,” he reassured her. “Baltar is in a holding cell. The Cylon has been destroyed.”

 

“Destroyed? Why?”

 

He shrugged. “I beat her pretty bad. She was in a coma when they got her here. Doc Cottle wasn’t sure if she’d ever wake up so the Director gave the order.”

 

Kara nodded slowly. “And you?”

 

“Just happy to be alive,” he said with a smile.

 

Already, she could feel herself being pulled back under, so she groggily smiled back and told him, “Me too.” A few seconds later, she was unconscious again.

 

~~~~~

 

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?” Bill asked as he entered her office.

 

She looked up from the papers on her desk and just stared at him for a moment. Tee shirt and shorts, barefoot. He looked so casual and comfortable. He looked like he was at home here. That thought made something in her chest tighten.

 

She removed her glasses and told him, “I’m about to head to bed.” Then paused for a few seconds before finally asking a question she did not want to know the answer to. “You here to hand in your resignation?”

 

“What makes you ask that?”

 

“You’ve been questioning your decision to join us since you first got here, but I knew you wouldn’t leave until this mess was finished with. Now the case is over.”

 

Without breaking eye contact, he told her, “The battle, but not the war. I’m not going anywhere, Laura.”

 

Something more was in the words, something deeper that forced a shiver up her spine, but she chose not to acknowledge it.

 

“Good. I’m just starting to get used to you. I’d hate to have to go through the whole question answer time with another guy.”

 

He sat down in the seat across from her. “Why’d you choose me, Laura? And why were you so casual about it?”

 

“I was hardly casual, Bill.”

 

“We met in a bookstore.”

 

And there was something terribly romantic about that, but again, she pushed the thought away. “And I already knew everything there was to know about you before you even walked in there.”

 

“I didn’t expect to be thrown into the job. I expected more tests until you were satisfied.”

 

She pushed back from the desk and leaned back against her chair, eyeing him with a smile. “I don’t need a lie detector exam to know whether or not you’re the real deal, Bill. I never did.” Then her eyes drifted away from him and she told him, “You were the perfect man for the Chief’s job: tactically minded, authoritive, experienced, compassionate, but rational. You’re a leader of men.

 

“But you would have been a terrible agent,” she said, smiling to soften the insult. “You’re honest, almost painfully so. I’m sure you have all sorts of classified information in your head, but you feel guilty about hiding it. Your integrity is unquestionable and I wasn’t going to bother challenging that.

 

“I chose you, Bill, because you were suited for the job description. And because you were exactly the kind of man I was looking for.”

 

And then he goes and throws her with, “Professionally, or personally?”

 

She didn’t want to talk about it, whatever the thing between them was. And she certainly didn’t want to broach the topic of what happened in that hotel room, so she hedged, “You’re a good Chief.”

 

“Laura,” and his tone of voice is enough to make her stop trying to delude them both.

 

So she tried to escape instead, standing and rounding her desk, telling him, “It’s been a long night,” in a clearly dismissive tone.

 

He got to his feet too and caught her wrist before she could run away. “Laura,” he repeated, low, husky and _Gods,_ she wanted him.

 

But all the reasons not to do anything about it were running through her head: Any distractions could endanger the Agency; any falling out could make the hierarchy unstable; it had been so long and she was so badly hurt the last time; she was too old, he was even older; they just didn’t have the time.

 

His thoughts seemed to be going in the same direction, yet oddly enough, a completely different way. “We’re too old to frak around, Laura. We’re too old for a drawn out romance and I don’t want one. I don’t want to waste any more time in my life. I don’t have enough moments left to go missing many more of them. We have dangerous jobs and live in dangerous times and I think tonight proved that we could both die at any time. I won’t go to my grave knowing I didn’t at least try to have something with you.

 

“I’m at a point now where I won’t frak around taking what I want. And I want you. There’s something here between us. I don’t understand it and I can’t explain it, but I couldn’t be frakked trying to figure it out.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” she protested, trying to get out of his hold, trying to pretend that his words – and his gods damned voice – weren’t affecting her.

 

“Do you know why I kissed you tonight?”

 

She was put off balance by the question and couldn’t answer, but apparently it was rhetorical because he didn’t give her a chance to respond before telling her, “I wanted to taste you.”

 

_Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer …_

  
“As simple as that. Before I died, I wanted to know what you tasted like.”

 

Her knees were weakening, but he wasn’t letting up. “I’ve been attracted to you from the moment I saw you. I’ve been drawn to you in a way I don’t understand. I’m sure the depths of it are terribly complex, but I’ve never felt like this in my life and I don’t care about trying to analyze it. I’m going to keep it as simple as my reason for kissing you tonight was. I want you. Do you want me?”

 

“Bill …”

 

“Do you want me?” he repeated, slowing the words down and lowering his voice even further, to a depth that made her spine tingle.

 

_Give me strength. Gods, please, give me strength._

 “There are so many reasons why we shouldn’t - -“

 

He cut her off. “Frak ‘em. Do you want me?”

 

He didn’t wait for a response this time, moving in and kissing her, hard. It was much like the kiss they shared in the hotel room, rough, intense, hot. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her against him, sending the blood speeding through her veins. His mouth assaulted hers and it was all she could do not to push him down on her desk and take him. Strip the pair of them right there in her office and ride him until she couldn’t hold back the scream …

 

Heat flooded her, their tongues simulating in their mouths what she desperately wanted their bodies to be doing and Laura knew that if he slipped his hand into her underwear now, she wouldn’t need to tell him anything. The proof was there, wet and hot. And if he managed to get that far, she wouldn’t have been able to deny him anything as long as he just kept frakking touching her.

 

Because the answer to his question was a very sound, _“Gods, yes.”_

 

Their breathing was heavy when they broke away from each other and she reigned herself in enough to stumble a step back, pushing herself out of his reach. What it was that was simmering in his eyes couldn’t be denied, so she wasn’t going to bother trying. Nonetheless, she was at a crossroads.

 

Time stretched before Laura as she considered her options.

 

She’d gone looking for a Tactical Chief and found something more. A partner, in so much more than just the field that she couldn’t even begin to list how many holes he’d been beginning to fill.

 

She wanted him. Badly. And he was perhaps the first man she’d met in so very long that she thought she could actually love. But the urge to turn him away was so overwhelming it made her head pound. Because all of the logical reasons she’d been thinking about were little more than excuses and the real reason was a reminder she saw daily in the shower.

 

There was a lesson that people in her line of work learned early on. A lesson that Laura had learned, ignored, and then relearnt the hard way. In the most painful manner imaginable. A manner that had ensured she would never forget it again.

 

_Don’t get attached._

 

She’d sworn she never would again. And, other than Billy, who she’d made sure was as well protected as anyone could possibly be (to an extent that he wasn’t even aware of), she never had. Even Kara and Lee, her most trusted agents, whom she certainly cared about, were expendable.

 

When it came down to the bare bones of it, Laura Roslin was scared out of her mind. Bill was right that there was something between them and it terrified her. More than anything had before. Because it had the potential to be incredibly powerful, which gave it the potential to be incredibly destructive.

 

And Laura had been burned before. Badly.

 

If she started something with Bill, if she let herself love him as deeply as she knew she would fall, he wouldn’t be. And that was unacceptable.

 

Choice made, she straightened herself to tell him firmly how it would be, but only had a brief second to wonder, _When the frak did he get so close again?_ before his lips were back on hers.

 

It was a completely different experience to the first two; where they had been fire and want, this was gentleness and reassurance. It didn’t make her moan, instead it made her sigh and tingle and swell with something she hadn’t remembered she’d forgotten.

 

_Don’t get attached._

 

Thanks to a small, round scar that marred the skin of her stomach, Laura would never forget those words. Bill had never learned them, and probably never would.

 

In the end, maybe that had been why she’d chosen him.

 

Their breath mingling as they parted, a sereneness like she’d not before known came over Laura as she opened her eyes and found his, calm and patient, right before her. It was enough to reaffirm what she already knew: Bill would never hurt her.

 

She’d thought that before, of just one other, but this time … this time she was certain she was right.

 

So with that, she took his hand, his roughened palms grazing her skin, his fingers tightening around hers securely, and she led him to her suite, closing the door firmly behind them.

 


End file.
